Innocent Death
by Yunaleskah
Summary: All you need is a bad day, a really bad day for your life to change 180 degrees. (Bellamione)
1. Chapter 1

The summer season was the best time to find robins around Northern Britain. The petite animals tended to migrate to the highlands at this time of the year. People would often hear them singing. The purpose of sing was to search for potential mates. Like this lucky one, who already found a mate and now they were nesting in a beautiful tall tree that sat next to a big mansion. The nest was hidden among the entwined branches, so no predator could easily spot them. It was the perfect place to raise their young ones once they hatched.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The spell came with such force that the birds resting on the tree didn't know what hit them before being disintegrated into thin air. Knife-like splinters came from the explosion, every piece of wood shot in different directions, piercing nearby surfaces, breaking windows' glass, and flying to Merlin knew where. The intact part still standing was the lowest part of the tree, which was practically the beginning of the roots. No one could ever believe that a tree used to exist just a few seconds ago.

A few seconds after the destruction, utter silence followed. No birds singing. No rustling of leaves. As if life in the vicinity had suddenly vanished.

Just perfect.

The Protego that was guarding her against any splinter shot her way, faded away. In one single motion of her wrist, the glass started to repair itself as well as the frame of the window. Right after, the curtains were closed once more. Darkness, again, invaded the room.

"Bloody birds, I'm trying to sleep here." Muttered to herself. She violently disentangled the knot from the robe as she walked towards the bed, very eager to get into her cocoon of silky duvets again.

_"Maybe next time I just should cast Muffliato…Ha! No." _A soft smile took shape on her lips while enjoying the first strokes of drowsiness.

"Bloody hell, what was that?!" The boy asked, disturbed by the sudden strenuous sound. He looked at the other two members on the table; his half-eaten breakfast was long forgotten.

"Draco, watch your language!" His mother dedicated him a pointed glare before returning to calmly sip her morning tea.

The boy was about to question his mother's indifference when his father chimed in, "It came from the west wing." His eyes didn't rise from the Daily Prophet. Lucius continued being absorbed in his thoughts. He considered buying new market stocks. Doing some investments in The Bark Brothers Co. could be highly profitable, after all, no matter which side of the war someone was, everyone needed wands. And to make wands, crafters needed wood. He made a mental note to send a representative later in the week to see the entrepreneur brothers.

"You say it like it explains anything," Draco said, looking at his father.

His gaze drifted to his son. He folded the paper in his hands, then placed it next to him, giving the boy his full attention. "It doesn't?" He straightened on his seat.

Draco gave him an empty look.

Lucius loved his son very much there was no doubt about that, but there were moments like this that sometimes wondered how could he had sired an obtuse son. To add insult to the injury, that moment Narcissa gave him a glare that said among the lines _"It comes from your side of the family."_ Right, because the Blacks never before married their cousins which bore not-crazy off-springs. However, if he wanted to sleep peacefully tonight and the rest of the nights, he'd better kept that thought to himself.

"Draco, who are the people residing in the west wing?" His tone bordered in patronizing.

"Dolohov, Yaxley, the Carrows, Thicknesse...But none of them are here at the moment" Then his eyes grew wide, coming down to the realization "Oh…"

"Oh, indeed," Lucius said. Draco stayed deep in thought for a few moments, before returning to his breakfast.

Narcissa turned to look at his husband "Do you still don't know what is she-" Another strenuous sound erupted from the vestibule, although not as sonorous as the first one, still strong enough to be heard by the members of the Malfoy family. Muffled swears became quickly discernable as the angry steps approached their way.

The blonde woman released a small annoyed sigh, bidding farewell to her family breakfast she was so much looking for today's morning.

Both doors of the dining hall opened in a disruptive manner. "That bloody wench exploded a tree nearby; I wasn't even close and I still got hit." Fenrir Greyback said to whoever was willing to listen, then sat at the end of the long table, licking the bleeding wound on his arm. Elves quickly started to serve him breakfast which mainly consisted of large quantities of raw meat.

The three Malfoys, who were quietly observing him, couldn't help but sneer at the distasteful sight.

"Filqui!" The intonation of her voice was soft and moderate. However, for the trained ear, as his husband had, it was laced with annoyance and exasperation.

"Yes, mistress Malfoy" A female elf appeared next to her master, ready to listen to her orders.

Narcissa, always being the generous host, said: "Bring a Healing potion for Greyback. After that, do go outside and repair whatever damage the earlier explosion did to the property, bring the other elves if you have to" The female elf dutifully nodded her head, and set off.

The woman swiftly stood up, gently smoothed down her dress.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked looking at her mother who seemed acted slightly peeved.

She turned around to look at her son "I'm going to have a conversation with our guest"

"Do you think that's wise?" Lucius asked still in his seat. Understanding which exact guest her wife was talking about, he preferred to just leave alone and avoid her as much as possible.

The blonde woman deliberately ignored his question. She spared one last gaze at her family, then against her will, her eyes drifted again towards Greyback. No matter how many lessons of etiquette Narcissa received in her youth for how to conceal her real emotions. Nothing could hold back the grimace that appeared in her face when she looked the disgusting werewolf chewing his meat.

She proceeded to head towards the entrance of the hall with a quick pace.

Narcissa arrived at her destination. The farthest room of the east wing. It has been so long since she had come to this side of the Mansion. Not to mention that these recent weeks, she had no business coming here. She was avoiding any unnecessary contact with the residents of this wing or the other wing for that matter.

For half a second, she hesitated whether to knock first or just barge her way in. Like today's episode, this guest tended to have sporadically outbursts of anger or more specifically impulsive destructive behavior. Although it wasn't an everyday incident, it happened. That was enough for her.

Who knew —if someone were to invade her privacy, like Narcissa was about to do— how would she react? It would be wise to be wary...

Before she could continue that train of thought, her servant interrupted her.

"Mistress Malfoy," Said next to her, "Filqui tried to repair most of the damage, but Filqui can't repair the master's peacocks. They are dead." An apologetic look manifested on her elf features.

"All of them?" Her eyebrows furrowed; the peacocks weren't even close from the tree. Just how powerful must have been that spell?

Extending one hand open, showing her five tiny fingers, the servant replied: "5 peacocks, mistress."

Narcissa dismissed her elf with one wave of her hand; she decided to barge in the room with wand in hand.

The room was in complete darkness, few rays of sunlight filtered through the sidelines of the curtains. With one easy movement of her wand, the curtains completely slid sideways, allowing sunlight in the room. Narcissa's eyes roamed all across the room. Her upper lip raised in disgust. To say the room was messy would be an understatement, it was simply in complete chaos. The smell of cheap alcohol aggressively invaded her nostrils, probably permeating her clothes as she stepped further in. Broken vials and clothes were littered everywhere. Most of the furniture's surfaces had a paraphernalia of potions and ingredients, and wait… Was that mud on her walls and carpets? Forget about that! Were those books from her library?

How and when did she get those?

"Wake up" A thinned line formed on Narcissa's lips, "I said wake up" getting angry by the second.

The body between the duvets finally stirred, lazily stretching her arms. "Ugh, what the fuck do you want?!" Asked the annoyed drowsy voice.

"What?!" She screeched. The nerve! Narcissa aimed her want at the bulk under the duvets. She wasn't about to allow this lack of judgment from this filth passed without consequences.

A grunt came from under covers "My apologies, what I meant was, oh most gracious lady of this mansion, how can I, your humble servant, ask you to leave this room?"

Narcissa heard enough.

A jinx was shot. The sobs of pain and the fetal form told that her spell had struck.

"Ugh, that hurt. Ok, you win" Said the girl, hardly able to raise half-body from the bed. Both hands raised in the air in a surrender gesture. The girl was naked from the waist upwards, Narcissa could see the mark that left her spell on the girl's upper chest. If left untreated, it was bound to leave an ugly bruise later. "You hit quite hard Mrs. Malfoy. I hardly can breathe" The words didn't match the body language and the tone of her voice, which vibrated with levity, even playfulness. As if all this was just a game.

On the other hand, Narcissa remained impassive at the girl's antics. Internally, she was disconcerted by how quickly she recovered. Adding the fact that she didn't seem to want to retaliate as predicted, nor she was angry. The blonde felt at odds of not knowing what to expect from this Impure.

The woman soon concluded that the girl didn't have the means to defend herself. That's why nothing had escalated.

"Miss Granger, is there any particular reason why the room is in such a state? And why pray and tell do you have my books?" She pointed out at the towers of books in the farthest corner.

Seeing no use in aiming her to a disarmed child, the blonde decided to store her wand on the side of her coat.

Hermione took in the state in the room, as if she was seeing it for the first time. Then a slow smile started to appear on her features. "Because I'm a teenager? And yes, those are some books I borrowed and that I'm planning to return. Cross of my heart" Her head tilted to the side, slightly, drawing two imaginary lines just above her left breast.

The woman openly sneered at her childishness. "No teenager I have ever seen can be this filthy." After a pause, tired on the lack of modesty from her, Narcissa added, "And would you please cover yourself?"

As a response to that, Hermione shrugged, looking non-committal. She seemed not to care much about her nakedness. Lazily, she removed the covers, walk towards the wardrobe, and began to browse into her garments.

"One more thing, Miss Granger. What happened to the tree?" Blue eyes looked past the window from where the tree was supposed to be visible.

The rustling sounds stopped. Hermione peeked out her head from the closet door. "Birds." She said as if that explained everything.

Narcissa blinked once, then twice. Her mouth opened for a brief time, then she closed it again, rapidly concluding it was better for both parties to not follow that line of conversation anymore. "Be as it may, I'll ask you to not go randomly exploding trees around the mansion. Someone may get seriously injured."

"Did someone get hurt?" She asked, there was something akin to defiance in her voice.

"Greyback got an injury in his arm"

A delighted laugh came from the girl. "I hope it gets infected," She said with a joyful tone.

Narcissa didn't know how to respond to that. This girl in front of her wasn't the girl she met in King Cross Station years ago.

Understanding the topic was closed, Narcissa let her eyes roam once more around the room. The first thing her eyes set on was the bed. She didn't notice it until now, the cover seemed ripped on top as if it has been the practice target of a slashing curse. Right then, she saw something standing out from under the pillow. Walking closer to take a better look, she saw a wand. All this time Hermione had her wand practically in her hand. She wasn't defenseless as the Slytherin woman had assumed.

She didn't what to think.

The blonde went on to continue silently surveying the room, at the same time, mindful to not step on something disgusting. On the small table, there was a large supply of dandelion root, dragon claw, valerian roots, fire seed, devil's snare, moonseed, powered silver... And in the center, there was a small bottle of fairy dust.

A beautification ingredient, why would the girl need that?

She mentally did all the potions that could be possible to create with those ingredients, but the only one that came to her mind didn't add up with the rest of them.

Narcissa turned around in time to see Hermione taking her wand from under the pillow. She was dressed in a dark grey open cloak, displaying the garments under it, leathery black pants, and a wine-red laced blouse. She played the very part of an elite witch.

Narcissa sneered at her words. This girl was a mudblood, playing pretend to be something else, she reminded herself.

With a quick flick of the girl's wand, the room returned to its pristine form.

"Would that be agreeable?" The brunette asked with a gentle smile. Narcissa felt speechless for a moment. She just saw that the girl used a modified version of Scourge charm, cast as a non-verbal spell.

That itself spoke volumes of her advanced magical abilities. And while it said something, it didn't say enough.

Once again, Narcissa had the question on tip of her tongue ready to shoot. The one question that had been always been in the front of her mind since the girl arrived at the mansion a couple of weeks ago under the orders of the Dark Lord. It is not that she hasn't asked before, but nobody knew anything. None of the Death Eaters knew something of this new development, not even Bellatrix. Draco told her what little he knew about her. The girl was highly intelligent and diligent in her studies. That was all. Which, again, said nothing.

Standing before the vanity, the Granger girl began to brush her wavy hair; left behind was the bushy strands she used to have in her earlier years.

"Miss Granger, would you mind me asking, what exactly are you doing here?" Her words were phrased as casual as possible. "I know the Dark Lord brought you here but…"

The girl stopped abruptly. The brush was set on the vanity again. When she turned around to face the blonde woman, the relaxed and playful semblance the girl had a second ago instantly dropped; a menacing aura emerged in its place.

Brown eyes glare at her, with a smile that didn't reach her the corner of her eyes, she said: "That's something you can ask yourself to the Dark Lord, Mrs. Malfoy" Her voice was openly hostile.

Narcissa wasn't about to let herself be intimidated by a runt; her features betrayed nothing. Truth be told, if this girl weren't under the Dark Lord's protection, she would have her punished time ago. She had the urge to slap her now more than ever. Nevertheless, she untouchable, for the moment.

She was tempted to insist once more, but again her intuition told her that eventually, everything would be uncovered; it was just about being patient.

The brunette opened her bedroom door "Now, I'm afraid if I delay any further there won't be any breakfast for me, and I'm starving. Have a wonderful day Mrs. Malfoy" And with that Narcissa saw the departing figure, leaving her alone in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was one of the last ones to arrive at the meeting. She knew this because only three chairs were empty on the large array of fifteen occupied seats. One chair, of unique designed patterns, stood empty at the other end of the table

The whispers and hushed exchanges that were taking place had immediately died as soon as her presence was noticed. Every head in the room turned to look at her.

In another time, in another life, she would have been scared, easily intimidated. As she was right now, their vitriolic glares meant nothing to her.

Even in the dimmed lights —just one lit candelabrum hung from the ceiling was the provider of light, accentuating the atmosphere of secrecy. — she could see every stare ranged with different emotions, bafflement, curiosity, disgust, hate.

As for herself, she projected confidence in her eyes, gazing forwards, her shoulders up, her chest out and her chin high. Just like her mother taught her. It seemed that all the Death Eaters were present. This must be a special night, Hermione thought. Voldemort had to be up to something big if he gathered them all together.

What little she had learned about him was that the man preferred short and more personal gatherings. Individuals ones. A smart strategy, the girl commended. Just telling his allies the things they needed know, nothing more,

With silence reigning, the sound of her steps echoed across the room. Hermione sensed the attempts of someone trying to do Legilimency on her

_'That won't do.'_ She put on several mental barriers, shutting out anyone who attempted to get in.

Occlumency and Legilimency were essentials abilities to have if she wanted to be inside with this pit of snakes; she learned them long before coming here.

Whispers began to rise again, speaking the same questions they been have asking among them before. 'Why is she here?' 'What is the Dark Lord thinking?' 'Why would he invite a mudblood?'  
'She is Potter's friend!' 'I saw her in the Department of Mysteries fighting with Potter side by side.'

Tonight, she felt invincible, her intentions were to relish on the feeling as much as she could. Their ignorance and uncertainty were a sort of relaxing balm to her broken soul.

As she approached her chair, Greyback positioned before her, intentionally blocking her path. A growl rumbled in his chest.

Bored-looking brown eyes looked up to his face, totally unimpressed by the cheap intimidation display. "Is there something you need from me, Fenrir?" She asked, giving him a small innocent smile.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows as the air turned almost unbreathable. When she slowly craned her neck towards the man, it almost made her gag. Merlin, the odor was disgusting.

Greyback growled, showing his canines. "Your little stunt earlier managed to hit me" His hands opening and closing, claws digging into the skin of his palms.

Some werewolves, Hermione noticed, seemed to have obvious secondary effects from the Lycanthropy curse. In his case was a large amount of fur on the face even in human form, the short but very sharp claws, his teeth didn't look pretty much human-like either. Unlike the types of Lupin, Greyback couldn't walk freely in the wizarding world without immediate discrimination. Well, if he wasn't a Most Wanted by the Ministry anyway. But still, this werewolf got the worst of the lycanthropy gene pool. If she didn't abhor him so much, she would let herself feel at least a tiny bit of pity for him.

"And you want me to do what? To kiss it better?" Even though the smell was murdering her nose, her smile stretched wider.

"I want to get even." said the werewolf, stepping closer into her personal space.

Hermione couldn't hold back a bark of laughter; her shoulders slightly trembled in amusement. _'Oh, scratch that, Fenrir got the worst of any kind of gene pool. I'll smite him before he can even growl at me again.'_

Noticing that the werewolf wasn't laughing with her, her eyes went wide in mocking surprise. "Oh, you are not joking? You are serious!" Her smile went wider again. Hermione gave him a measuring look. He looked like a moron that could barely hold a wand from the right end. "Well big boy, here I am" The right hand already grasping her wand under her grey robes, ready to fire.

* * *

Severus Snape was a man that couldn't be easily taken by surprise. The professor personally prided himself on always being two steps ahead of his adversaries. In fact, he couldn't recall the last time something shocked him. Distressed him? Yes. Pleasantly surprised him? Yes. Saddened him? Yes, that too.

And yet, when he stepped into the room just in time for the gathering. He saw _her_. Quite shocking to see a ghost, —not that the potions master was ever scared of such spectral manifestations, — the astonishing part was that this ghost appeared to be very much alive. Considering that, not so long ago, it has been stated her official death. All her close friends mourned her, even held a small intimate funeral at Hogwarts.

He was witnessing a new development, not even he saw it coming.

But alas, the girl was alive and kicking. This begged for an explanation, he thought as his five seconds stupor left him. After all, incredible feats required even more incredible explanations.

Alive, but who knows for how long, seeing that she was throwing herself in harm's way by provoking Greyback.

He stepped from the shadows that were keeping his presence hidden and swiftly approached the pair. "I see you are still recklessly stupid, Granger." The man said in his slow monotonous voice. If Hermione was surprised to see him, it didn't show on her face.

* * *

"Well, Greyback here wanted to give me a demonstration of something, isn't it, wolf?" Not even for a second, her gaze strayed from him. Her hand itched to pull out her wand.

"The only demonstration will be me eating your entrails" He snarled.

"Not before you end up engulfed in flames." Someone else's might say that the aversion she felt towards him was at the very least unjustified. The ones who knew her would say that she was being an utter hypocrite. Knowing this didn't change her position in the slightest. She still despised him.

The tension broke at the first noise of a knob being turned. Voldemort stepped into the room with Nagini beside him, and Wormtail trailing behind them. Hermione was the first to withdraw from the petty quarrel, immediately stepping away; she rushed to her respective chair.

One day, she thought, one day she would provoke him into a duel. Break his pride, and show him she wasn't someone to be messed with.

"Welcome, my dearest friends." Greeted the Dark Lord.

Just at the opposite side of the table, tar-looking eyes were fixed on her; sulfuric hate glistened in them. Her mouth displayed an ugly curve that could only be interpreted as pure disgust. Hermione didn't need to see what was going through the woman's mind, her face told her everything she needed to know and a little more.

_'Trust me, the feeling is mutual.'_ Still, she had to admit it was better than she expected it. Considering that this was the first time they officially met face to face, in neutral circumstances, that is.

Her eyes traveled to the people beside the dark-haired woman, the Malfoys. The dignified man she used to see before was still there, sitting, sure of himself, yet his aspect seemed a little worn out. Narcissa looked fine, just as today's morning. Draco, he barely has seen his ex-bully around his own home. She cared not for him.

The Dark Lord sat at the end of the table as it was the tradition, his long fingers grasped both edges of the long ebony furniture, projecting power and authority, looking the very bit of intimidating and frightening wizard that he was. The descriptions didn't do him justice. His ruby red eyes shined brighter than the ashen white of his skin, his handsome cloak was as dark as the void itself. When he moved, the end of the garment extended in the air like black foam.

At first, the mere sight of him used to send shivers through her spine, Voldemort was intimidating even when he was in a placid, sedated mood. And while the shivers stopped after the first weeks of cooperating with him. Hermione considered that she might never get fully used to his unsettling presence. Right now, it wasn't about how he looked like, more than it was about what he was capable of what made her wary of him every time they shared a room.

"How wonderful to see all of you gathered tonight." A smile formed on his lips. He made a pause to address everyone with his eyes, which in turn, looked at him expectantly. Hermione learned that Voldemort's powerful abilities weren't just of magical nature. His influence over them was quite powerful too. "Tonight, we begin planning to finally infiltrate the ministry."

Everyone smiled, cheered and some even hit the table in a celebratory manner. Multiple short exchanges started to run across the table. Everyone held to varying degrees of enlivened expressions on their faces; except for a few members.

Snape's face remained impassive, Hermione didn't know how to react, so she copied the expression of the man sitting to her left, and Bellatrix, watching her like a hawk who was about to kill its prey.

A tug, like a finger pulling delicately the cord of a guitar, began to drone in her chest. The brunette knew this could happen. As she said, this was the first close encounter with _that thing_. Luckily, the vial she drank earlier would continue helping her decrease the intensity of the symptoms.

When everyone quieted down once more, the Dark Lord continued his speech, "But first," Red eyes drifted towards the girl on his left. "I would like to welcome the newest member to our circle: Hermione Granger." The smiles and talk immediately died. Nobody cheered this time.

Hermione stood up, then gave a respectful bow towards everyone in the room, looking none the wiser. "I thank you, my Lord. For bestowing me the opportunity to sit in this room." Her eyes raised to meet with the Lord's. He was pleased.

Unfortunately, most of the members at the table didn't share the Lord's feelings.

Internally, she took pleasure and amusement of being the receiver of the nasty looks, ranging from disgust, confused, distrusting, anger. Not everyone looked at her as if she was the worst thing to happen. Narcissa and Severus remained unconcerned.

She couldn't blame them. This new development would throw anyone out of the chair. How outrageous. The first impure sitting among half and pure-bloods wizards and witches.

It said something, that someone had still to object. Did everyone here fear the Dark Lord to such extent that even if his decisions were questionable, nobody would argue with him? Maybe it wasn't needed, there was the option that Voldemort himself would be in the generous mood to provide explanations to their many questions.

A deep voice, coming from one person that she didn't recognize, asked. "My Lord is this wise?"

"She is friends with Harry Potter," Yaxley said.

"She might be a spy!" A shrill voice added to the mix. Hermione recognized her as Alecto Carrow.

"She was fighting along with Harry Potter in the department of mysteries, of course she is a spy!" Dolohov replied.

"Then what is she doing here?" …Ah, Lucius. Of course.

"What do you have to say to these accusations?" The Dark Lord asked her.

'Could he trust her?' 'Is she a spy?' 'Is she truly friends with Potter?' 'What is she doing here?' Voldemort had the answer to all those questions. That was all that mattered. Not them. They could think whatever they wanted and it changed nothing.

"While I can't answer the first question. I may enlighten all of you on the rest with a single example."

All eyes were on her. The brunette knew that no matter what her words contained; those judgmental, bigoted looks wouldn't change.

She walked behind the seated members; brown eyes stared intently at the black-bearded man. "Antonin Dolohov can attest my loyalties" She spoke out loud.

Unintelligible murmurs roused, everyone turned to see Dolohov

Dolohov released a breathy chuckle. "She is crazy, I don't know what she is talking about." His body language was open, confident. Arrogant.

Hermione tilted her head slightly, insinuating that he was the one who is confused "I think not, Mister Dolohov. You just have to answer honestly." She started walking slowly towards the man who shot her a nasty curse not a few months ago.

"Now, while you and the rest of the Death Eaters were waiting for your one-way trip to Azkaban. During midnight an Auror visited your cell. Do you remember that, Mister Dolohov?"

The man swallowed but did not answer.

"This Auror tortured you. Knowing that nobody was around, this Auror used Crucio on you. After an eternity of your wailing and shouting." She remarked the last words with a mocking tone. "Did or didn't you receive twelve wands and note from this Auror?"

"…Yes." his earlier smile quickly turned into a frown. He twisted in his seat; the brunette assumed he was recalling the good times.

"And did or did not the note specifically read: Free the rest of your partners. Fail and you'll die." She paused for a moment allowing the information to be absorbed by everyone in the room "Well, you see. I was the Auror." A small smile manifested on her face. She couldn't stop it, even if she wanted it. "It is amazing what a little bit of information about the Aurors schedules, and a batch of Polyjuice can do."

"Look at it this way, ladies and gentlemen." For the first time in the night, she decided to look at them, truly see their faces and memorize every single one of them, so it will remain embedded in her memory, to savor the expression. "Were it not for me, you all be smooching with Dementors right now."

"As for the rest of your accusations." It was her turn to look at them as if they were the impure ones. "Well, there is a reason why it is I, who is sitting next to our Lord and not you."

Their reactions were, overall, contained. Something that Hermione found disappointing. Some looked down at the table, while others showed restrained contempt. Even Bellatrix didn't seem to look as if she was about to throw her the killing curse, now she looked at her as if she wanted to practice Crucio on her.

The brunette turned around to face Voldemort "But if my Lord says that is not enough to prove my loyalty, I will keep trying. I'm ready for any task my Lord is willing to give me." She gave him a soft bow, trying to convey that she meant her words.

Not fully understanding the heavy implications in her statement until much time later.

"Your eagerness is welcome, Hermione." Replied the dark wizard, satisfied with how the girl acted. He made a motion with his hand for the girl to take her seat again.

"Now, we have wasted much time with this. Let's start.

* * *

Time passed quickly, even quicker when the discussions were about committing nefarious deeds.

The meeting ended up with a lot of viable plans to overtake the ministry, now there was the small conundrum of which one could bring effectively their plans into fruition. And of course, there were a few loose ends here and there but that's what the Death Eaters were for, to tighten them up. Hermione made a few proposals at which the Lord agreed to some of them. Snape added his insights in between.

Hermione wanted to say she was surprised to see Severus Snape, but that would be a lie. She always saw something in him that made her believe in the possibility of him being a dark wizard. A Death Eater.

"Everyone, leave!" Voldemort waved his hand in dismissal. "Except for Hermione and Bellatrix, I have a task for both of you."

After the room was emptied, Voldemort stood up from his chair making a motion to both women to follow him towards the table; maps and pieces of parchment flew to position on the wall.

"The request is simple yet it requires discretion and timing." Hermione followed the imaginary line the white ashen finger traced over the north of the United Kingdom. "Here" The pointed what looks like a small town "And here" another town southeast from the first. "These are the places where Igor Karkaroff has been seen lately." Black dots appeared on the map between both towns. "It is believed that he is hiding in any of those marked areas"

Hermione remembered that name. Karkaroff, he was the headmaster of Durmstrang. A scary-looking man. He was a powerful wizard; a veteran practitioner of the dark arts according to Victor Krum. And of course, an Ex-death eater.

"You want me to find him, my Lord?" Asked Bellatrix excited at the proposition.

The brunette took notice of how Bellatrix said 'me' instead of 'us'. As if she wasn't present at all.

"No, your task is not to find him. Karkaroff is not stupid, he'll smell your miles away before you get to him." Three red dots appeared inside the towns. "Who he won't see is Hermione; a face nobody has seen in those lands. We can use this as an advantage."

Before Hermione could add her thoughts, Bellatrix stepped closer to Voldemort "My lord, are you sure the mudblood is reliable?" Venom coated her tongue.

"The same thing could be said about you." The girl calmly retorted.

"How dare you!?" Bellatrix bared her teeth. "Unlike you, filth! I have been most loyal to the Lord."

"I wasn't questioning your loyalty." Instead of engaging the woman further, the young witch directed her attention at the Dark Lord. "She is mentally unstable, my Lord. Do you believe she isn't going to be a liability in this mission?"

One wand came from its holster. "You better shut your mudblood mou-"

"Silence! Both of you!" The girl's shoulders tensed at the raspy but no less frightening tone of Voldemort's voice. She shut her mouth obediently.

If only her counterpart would have done the same...

"But my Lord-"

Hermione didn't see an early sign in the man's body language; a blink, a twitch on his muscles, anything that would have warned for what he was about to do. And when the brunette finally saw it, she was already levitating along with Bellatrix.

Voldemort cast a non-verbal Aguamenti. The spell was strong enough to wrap them in a large sphere of water levitating in the air. The sphere was huge, it almost touched the high ceiling of the drawing-room. Feet and hands moved desperately, swimming against the whirlpool towards the closest surface. However, the internal currents drag them to the center at every attempt.

Hermione saw the first bubbles of oxygen leaving her lungs; he was going to drown them.

And just as suddenly as it was cast, the spell broke.

Both women fell on the floor, loudly coughing and gasping for air. "I hope this will serve as another reminder to not question my decisions, Bellatrix." The dark witch coughed water as a response. Hermione wanted to ask if this was a reprimand for Bellatrix, then why she was included in the punishment?

For the first seconds, she felt like she was about to pass out. And damn that bloody tugging in her chest that has been bothering all night didn't help her situation. She shook her head and stood up as fast as she could, not taking any risk of angering the man further.

"Hermione you'll survey the black areas." Voldemort continued his explanation. "These two red dots are the contacts." One dot appeared in the first village, then the second dot on the village down south. "They will inform of any activity they see of Igor; your main task is to find where he is. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord"

"When you find him, you'll notify Bellatrix with this coin" He put the coin on the girl's hand. "Bellatrix you'll be the one to kill him and Hermione will act as your support."

"An owl will arrive these next days; the contacts are waiting for Igor to appear again, assuming that he hasn't moved from the area. You'll be leaving immediately after that. Be ready" He gave them one last look and turned around, ignoring the witches' presence. They were dismissed.

Hermione grasped her wand tightly as she walked towards the exit; she could hear the click of Bellatrix's heels trailing close behind her. It was easy to guess what was going to happen right after they leave the room. Bellatrix would threaten or attack her or maybe both. _'Because she is a psychotic woman.'_ She seemed predictable like that.

A multiple set of strategies ran in her brain. The dark witch would be the first to attack so a Protego was the only option, then maybe she shall hit her with a Stupefy or an Expeliarmus. An Incarcerus could be better; it won't do any good to hurt her. That, of course, if she could hit her. This was Bellatrix Lestrange, after all. Her infamy preceded her.

She held her breath as the door began behind them.

The brunette was ready to fight and…

Bellatrix walked past by her.

Dark locks bounced up and down, the would be lost in the dimmed corridor if not for the alabaster skin of her naked shoulders making a contrast of black and white in her body. The brunette watched how the already dried up retreating figure disappeared in the farthest corner.

The girl looked down at her robes; drops of water continuously falling on the carpet.

She felt foolish.


	3. Chapter 3

One hour past midnight, Hermione finally arrived at her bedroom door. Exhaustion was catching up to her, yet still, there was still a few books research she needed to do before going to bed. A bath would be nice too, that way she can wash off the disgusting smell from Greyback.

When her hand rested on the handle, the brunette immediately stopped; the knob was warm. Someone broke her magical seal on the door. '_It couldn't be the elves. They don't open doors, they apparate.'_

Silently, she kneeled, then carefully observed the gap between the dark mahogany heavy door and the carpet. The brunette wasn't oblivious to the possibility of someone entering her room behind her back. That was why she always tried to leave non-magical objects to could give her a clue if someone had stepped inside without her knowledge. Right under the door, she often drew a line of white powder. It has never been smeared. Until now.

Hermione released a tired sigh, the people relied so much on magic that sometimes they forgot there were simple ways to spot a presence other than runes and charms, that at the end, they could be broken knowing the right equations to dispose of them.

Not knowing what to expect, the brunette slowly opened the door, letting a short gap wide enough to cast a non-verbal spell and light up the candles inside the whole room. Right away, she kicked the door open, briskly entering the room pointing her wand in all directions.

The intruder was spotted sitting on the sofa in front of the tea table. Seeing his calm demeanor, and the silent amusement of her entrance, Hermione lowered her wand.

"Ugh, what do you want?" The girl made a face, feeling already peeved by his presence. She never liked the man. Yet, one side of her had to admit there was a little comfort in seeing a familiar face.

"Answers and you have them." He crossed his legs and put his arm on the armrest, looking like he was planning to stay for a long time.

Clearly stating that he wasn't about to elaborate further, Hermione raised eyebrows at his demanding manner. They weren't at Hogwarts anymore. He didn't get to ask something from her.

If she was about to be questioned might as well get something out of it. "I might ask the same thing, Professor Snape." She replied with an accusative tone, taking a seat on the other available loveseat, right across from him.

Snape's face remained impassive, something she expected from the most monotonous man in the wizarding world. Both stayed silent for the next moments; she could only assume he was considering his next words.

Her robe was starting to feel stuffy; while he took his time, Hermione took this opportunity to lose the garment. Both hands worked to untie the tight knot on her upper chest. The brunette could swear it was only three seconds that her gaze strayed from the Potions Master. By the time her eyes went up again, Severus had stood up with his wand aiming at her.

The wizard's face was grave and attentive, his eyes showed a menacing nature never seen by her. "Move another muscle and it'll be the last thing you do."

Hermione backed away further on the seat, breathing hard, her hands clutching the soft material of the sofa. Her wand was inside the robe's pocket; the man was within a very short distance. There was no other option but to comply, "What do you want?"

Snape's eyes remained bent on the girl. "You came to my office about the essay you wrote for the Draught of Peace brew what did I say to you?"

A raspy chuckle left her dried throat. "That if I got 'acceptable' was because I didn't stir correctly enough." The brunette wanted to tear his head off for scaring her like that. _'Why would he think I'm someone else? It's illogical.'_

The potions master considerably relaxed after the reply. "I'll answer one question, but first you answer mine" Snape spoke sternly, putting away his wand, as he sat again on the love seat.

A warning in her head told her that she shouldn't agree. It would be better to ask to leave and preferably never come back or talk to her ever again. However, driven by curiosity and the need to connect in at some level with someone from Hogwarts, she nodded, accepting the deal.

Brown eyes studied the tired-looking man, the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usually were. His skin had an unhealthy color, he had lost some weight. Those were clear signs of someone undertaking high-levels of stress. Yet, he looked well-groomed, recently shaved, his hair didn't seem to have the common oiliness. His robes looked tidy, but some of the lower ends appeared damaged, burnt perhaps.

_'__You have been very busy…'_ These last weeks, things around here have been inactive. Still, Severus looked like he has been running errands non-stop. That would explain why she hasn't seen him before. _'…I wonder what exactly are doing here?'_

"Explain how you ended up in the service of our Lord"

Hermione raised one eyebrow, "That's a very loaded question, for that, I deserve more than one answer from you…" It was only fair. "…Besides, I wouldn't know where to start"

The man rested his back into the cushions. "From the beginning would be agreeable"

_'__How do you aid Voldemort?'_

"That's a long story"

_'__Are you a spy at Hogwarts?'_

"Then you better start now" His voice began to show hints of impatience.

The brunette decided that she would indulge this, and see where it'll take them both. At the same time ignoring all the red flags that told her this could backfire.

* * *

Everyone knew what happened the night where Remus Lupin was confronting Pettigrew. He forgot to drink his wolfsbane potion and ended turning into a werewolf in front of the three friends. In order to provide some sort of protection for the trio, who were watching the scene unfolding with fear and perplexity, Sirius Black turned into his Animagus form and did everything he could to keep the werewolf away from the children.

Harry and Hermione managed to run towards the forest with Lupin on their tail. But just when Lupin was about to strike Hermione, out of nowhere Buckbeack the hippogriff appeared to save them.

And that's the story that many in the Order believe. Because is the only one they know.

While the story was mostly true, it wasn't entirely accurate.

That night Buckbeack arrived seconds later, just right after Lupin managed to dig his fangs on Hermione's ankle.

What happened right after was a trip to St. Mungos, where Hermione although not gravely injured, she was in what was the wizardry equivalent of the Intensive Care Unit. The doctor tried to counter the effects of lycanthropy. If treated early, the malady would not spread fully into her body and she would be safe from turning into a werewolf every full moon. They kept monitoring her all night. The doctors were confident that, with the potions they were using, Hermione would have a normal life.

It didn't work.

Remus Lupin didn't renounce to his position as a teacher because his lycanthropy status came out to the public. The truth was that he couldn't bear the shame of his atrocious mistake. He couldn't face the girl anymore. It was time to leave, and try to move over a mistake he would never forget.

The only ones who were aware of Hermione's new status were Dumbledore, Sirius, Harry, Ron of course Lupin. As Dumbledore explained the fewer people knew the better, if word got out and reach the board of parents, they would immediately demand the permanent expulsion of Hermione.

As for Hermione, at the beginning she just wanted to die; she felt her life was over. An enormous burden has been put on her shoulders at such a young age. It took a lot of comfort and encouragement from both of her friends to understand that her life wasn't ruined. At least not entirely as Ron put it, who earned a reproachful glare from Harry. They tried to convince her that things hadn't dramatically changed, she was still herself and that was what really mattered.

That the first time Hermione saw pity in her best friend's eyes.

She hated it.

As long as she had the wolfsbane potion with her, probably things could be bearable, she thought weeks later. Getting the ingredients for the potion wasn't that difficult with Dumbledore's help. The complicated part was to make it. It took arduous long hours of daily training for Hermione to master the correct way to successfully brew it.

With much time and effort, she had learned to live with Lycanthropy. Conscientious to keep a large supply of wolfsbane wherever she went, Hermione knew she wasn't a danger to anyone. Every full-moon she'll lock herself in one of the dungeons provided by Dumbledore, then calmly she spent the night there until the next morning.

The first time she transformed was painful as it was traumatic. Nothing could ever make her forget the sound of bones cracking or the sensation of her skin breaking apart, her body contorting to take a new shape. Dumbledore did everything in his power to help her ease the transformation. He was with her every step of the way, casting pain relief charms during the process.

The Headmaster was always there for her, his deposition moved her deeply at that time.

One day, a hypothesis came to her mind. Perhaps Dumbledore felt very guilty about her condition, after all, the incident happened at the school's grounds. Part of the responsibility rested on him. That would explain why he was always providing her the wolfbane's ingredients and helping her through her transformation.

She never dared to vocally express it, though.

As time passed by, she did experience some subtle changes in her. Her reflexes were keener; her capability to retain information increased, even more. Books she read a year ago were still fresh in her mind. Generally speaking, she felt herself with more energy, nothing drastic but it gave her an edge at the time to study for her tests. Thankfully nobody noticed these changes. Everyone just assumed she was being even nerdier than normal.

Grateful of the constant emotional support from Harry and Ron, the brunette couldn't help but see the wariness in their eyes every time the full moon was approaching. That itself hurt her, as much as it offended her. It made her think that they thought there'll be an occasion where she will forget to drink the wolfsbane, just like Lupin did, and harm them or even kill them.

Don't they know her? She would never be careless, so inconsiderate to commit that kind of mistake.

Still, she brushed away it. She convinced herself that it wasn't something to pay attention to.

Life at Hogwarts continued as normal as it could be.

Everything was well.

Until it wasn't

That night at the Department of Mysteries, as Hermione would put it, everything went to hell.

Everyone saw how Bellatrix threw the killing curse to Sirius Black; how his body went through the ancient doorway, disappearing into the veil. A soul-wrenching scene for everyone, but mostly for Harry.

Everyone saw how Harry blinded by rage and driven by revenge gave immediate pursue to Bellatrix Lestrange who was cackling madly at her misdeed, taunting him and calling him names. Harry rapidly caught up to her. He raised his wand and in a failed attempt, he tried to Crucio the woman. Compared to the unbearable pain intensity of the curse, Bellatrix only felt the minor tickle of needles piercing her skin, which only made her fall on her knees, this caused her to laugh even more.

Hermione and the rest of her friends quickly followed suit after Harry ran to pursue the dark witch, all of them watched the scene unfolding between the boy and Lestrange. Yet, not nobody approached them.

Something happened at the Room of Prophecies. Hermione didn't know what, but definitely something was wrong with her. It started when they saw the Death Eaters. Light pain in the chest, like a rope tied around her chest and pulling her somewhere. It felt weird. She wanted to believe it was a side effect of Dolohov's attack, however, that wasn't possible as it had started before the battle ensued.

And now, seeing the scene before her eyes it felt worse. This tugging extended in her whole body as she saw Bellatrix at the mercy of Harry. Something dark and twisted born in her chest, because an irrational and strong compulsion to protect the woman came to her. To say she was disturbed by the sudden feeling was an understatement. Hermione couldn't even begin to understand what was happening to her as her mind yelled to attack Harry.

Madness incarnate, incomprehensible emotions that never existed before in her.

The tugging became nearly unbearable as if something wanted to crawl out of her body.

Unfamiliar fight instincts urged her to move, to act. To attack. It took every ounce of will from her to remain rooted in her spot, sensing if she were to move a single muscle would be only to shoot curses at Harry.

The next two minutes, Hermione saw them in slow motion…

"For the spell to work, you have to mean it…You know the spell. Kill her" Harry heard the voice of Voldemort in his head, persuading him, subtle mockery in his words; implying that the boy didn't have it in him to do it.

Right that second, the Dark Lord chose to appear behind Harry. The boy not being fast enough to defend himself, Voldemort's disarmed him with a single flick of his finger.

While Harry's encounter with Voldemort unfolded, Hermione saw from the corner of her eye how Neville was crossing the atrium as subtle and fast as he could. He was heading towards Bellatrix who was entranced by the scene unfolding between her Lord and the boy.

Hermione's eyes drifted once more to Harry and saw how Dumbledore came out from one of the many Floo Networks, stepping forward, the Headmaster became a shield between Potter and Voldemort, both wizards exchanged words. Nothing Hermione could make out from her distance.

She couldn't resist the tugging in her chest anymore, it was turning too painful to ignore.

She moved.

Where Harry failed, Neville took the opportunity. He had been looking for a chance of vengeance since he was a little boy. It was long overdue. If he couldn't bring his parents back, then he will at least avenge them. He will be known for the boy who defeated Bellatrix Lestrange.

When he got close enough to the witch, all the anger and pain he suffered thanks to that woman was concentrated in his wrist. With a sharp thrust of his wand, Neville sent the most powerful Stupefy he has ever cast.

The young boy didn't even manage to assimilate the unconscious woman, just lay a few meters ahead from him. Because someone behind him shouted 'Expulso' right after his attack. The blast that came after launched him towards the front wall, making him lose consciousness in the process.

The flavor of vengeance and retribution never came for Neville. Instead, he got a broken nose and few bones, and muscle damage.

Harry saw it, her friends saw it, Dumbledore caught of glimpse of it before finally engaging with Voldemort.

Everyone saw it.

The saw how Hermione stood shocked, frozen in place as her wand pointed towards a bleeding Neville.

* * *

"And then what happened?"

"Wait, you are not going to ask why did I attack Neville?"

"Although extremely rare, you are not the first case, possibly neither last one." Said in a bored tone, so far, the man hadn't shown any significant emotion through her story.

"By case, you mean more like legends, no?"

"Don't be quick to disregard legends, Granger. They hold truth beneath."

The girl was slightly taken aback by his disposition to believe in rumors and tales. She looked at him as if he was a puzzle to solve. Severus was very smart; an erudite in the potions field, very quick-witted, and no doubt a good duelist. He wouldn't have survived this far if he had a cell of foolishness in his body. So, what was he doing here listening to her tale? He said he wanted answers… Why though? Is he driven by curiosity?

_'__He doesn't strike as a man to enjoy gossip.'_

"All right" Clasping her hands over her crossed legs. Putting those thoughts aside for the moment, she continued her tale. "As you must already know Voldemort and Dumbledore engaged in a duel. Honestly, I barely remember what happened."

"I recall Harry shook me by the shoulders asking multiples times. 'Why did you do it? What were you thinking?' Poor Harry, he was grief-stricken by his Sirius' death." Frowning as it trying to remember something else but nothing detailed came to mind

"The next thing I can remember was the moment we took momentary refuge at Grimmauld mansion. Neville was sent to St. Mungos just after we arrived. The boys were furious at me" She released a humorless chuckle "I have never seen them so angry with someone like they were with me at that moment" She took a pause, the memory brought old feelings alive. "Now that I think about it, I don't think they were furious for the sole reason I attacked Neville, I think their source of anger came more from the fact that I made them lost a lifetime opportunity to cripple Voldemort by removing his lieutenant."

"The rest of the Order was aware of what happened in the next few hours. They all thought I had gone mad or something. Others believed Bellatrix or Voldemort cast the Imperius curse on me. It was then when they told me that Voldemort and Bellatrix had managed to escape." Even then, there was a part of her that she felt relieved at the news of Bellatrix Lestrange being safe. _'Merlin, I thought I was losing my mind, worrying over the well-being of a murderer.'_

"Things went south from there" She swallowed trying to keep at bay the sour taste in her mouth "Three days later after the incident, Dumbledore called me to his office. Like you, he had figured it out the moment he saw it."

* * *

"Hermione, please have a seat." Dumbledore welcomed her with the warm paternal voice that characterized him, sky blue eyes looked at her with concern. "I want to apologize first; I've been meaning to talk to you. However, the Ministry took most of my time these days. I'm sorry" He put a cup of warm tea in front of her "Tell me, child. How are you?" He asked as he sipped his tea.

_'Miserable, tired, and anxious.'_

"I'm fine." Said the brunette shrugging her shoulders. Dumbledore gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further. "Hermione, I want to talk about what happened at the department of mysteries" His voice was soft and comforting. Yet, Hermione still managed to visibly flinch at the mention of it. "Don't worry, there is nothing wrong, you did nothing bad. And that's something I'll explain later to your friends."

Hermione wanted to cry at the mention of her 'friends.' She wondered if they were really still her friends. She knew the relationship with them had taken a heavy blow, and in moments like this, she has to ask if they could ever go back to what it was before all this. The only one that didn't frown at her was Luna, but again she wasn't even close to her.

She didn't have anyone to comfort her, Ron and Harry had shunned her these last three days. Although they haven't said anything directly at her face, it was obvious they were more than wary of her. If today's fight was anything to go by, they were already brushing the boundaries of estrangement.

Despite the opportunity they gave her to defend herself, she couldn't explain something that she didn't even understand. Naturally, they didn't believe her. It hurt deeply. Her lips trembled, her throat got increasingly painful and constricted. She quickly dried the welled-up tears.

"I think I have the answer that would clarify what you did to young Longbottom was beyond your power. Allow me to illustrate." Said the wizard while giving her handkerchief "There are some side effects that can manifest on the people who suffer from the lycanthropy curse. You see, some people might have a keener sense of smell or hearing, nothing extraordinary mind you, while others when they experience fear, feel the compulsion to growl or even bark. However, in your case, it was something even rarer according to records."

He cleared his throat little, blue eyes shined sympathetic

Hermione's stomach dropped to the bottom; her gut told her that whatever he was about to say was going to be bad.

In return, the brunette tried to convince herself that no matter what it was, she would overcome it with time. If she learned to live with lycanthropy, then whatever was this, she would handle it. How worse could things get, anyway? And if Dumbledore offered his support then it would be even more bearable.

Dumbledore sat next to her, "I believe when you saw Ms. Lestrange you happened to imprint on her, or more likely, your wolf found its mate."

_'…__What?'_

"I-I don't understand." Her voice cracked. She didn't understand. What, what was he saying? _'What is that?'_

"Neither do I, nobody seems to understand how it works. The cases are too rare, adding the fact that not many people are willing to study the victims of this curse—"

"No! I meant I don't understand what the bloody you mean by that!" She didn't mean to raise her voice and sound so angry and desperate. A little ashamed of her sudden outburst, Hermione looked to the side, then calmly said: "The imprinting thing. What is that supposed to mean?"

Dumbledore overlooked her outburst, instead, he tried to give her a reassuring smile. One that said everything was going to be fine.

Hermione wanted to rip it from his face. A feeling she had never experienced, until now.

"Simply put, your wolf finds Ms. Lestrange as an equal, a mate. To my understanding it has something to do with the origin of the curse; all of this is just rumors, of course. Nobody for certain can trace the origin of the malady."

There was no information about so-called mates in the books she had, the brunette had memorized them.

"A dark wizard wanted to test the limits of the Animagus form, which his, happened to be a wolf. Driven by the stories of Vánagandr, the father of all wolves. The legend says that he tried to make something similar to himself, to become stronger, faster, and to walk in two legs. After many years of failures, one day he happened to succeed. He succeeded at a great price, I'm afraid. For when he turned into a werewolf, he became a frenzied beast. That very night he killed his wife. In the aftermath, devastated by his own deed, he lost his mind. The grief became bitterness with time. It is said that he decided to turn his condition into a curse. To infect as many people as possible, that way he wouldn't suffer alone anymore."

"If the story were to be true, that emotion of love he felt for his wife was transmitted onto the curse. Making some infected capable of imprinting."

"With all due respect, professor. But that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard" She was slightly surprised by the level of venom her comment was voiced

"Yes, might sound a little bit silly." the kind man conceded. "But whatever is the origin of lycanthropy and its effects, it doesn't make it any less true from what you are experimenting right now."

He was right on that account.

All this felt so disheartening and hopeless.

"Hermione, please answer honestly. How do you feel?" He asked, very concerned.

_'I feel happy, ecstatic, over the fucking bloody moon… How do you think I feel?!'_ She was very close to snap again at the man.

_'__What the did it mean to be imprinted to Bellatrix Lestrange?'  
_  
"Do you feel restless? Do you feel empty? As if all of a sudden something in your life is lacking, but you cannot say exactly what it is? Do you feel the pain in your chest?" To Hermione, he seemed he didn't want to upset the girl further, yet with his line of questioning all it did to her was to make her feel worse by the second.

A sob escaped her lips, "…Yes," She uttered, silently crumbling.


	4. Chapter 4

"Didn't he tell you there is a draught that might lessen your symptoms? Is the same one the Veelas use when turns out their selected mates doesn't reciprocate the Veela's feelings" He explained, there was a slight inflection of curiosity and confusion in his voice.

Hermione threw her head to the side and laughed. It was dried and humorless. Her expression said everything about how she felt. "Of course not." Brown eyes adopted a darker shade, then added, "Let's just say that would have been unnecessary according to his plans."

"As I was saying," The girl extended her arms on the backrest of the sofa, getting herself comfortable for the hardest part of this tale. "One-week later Dumbledore called me to his office again. This time though, he said that we should go somewhere else to talk. We took the Floo network from his office to Diagon Alley. He didn't elaborate much on the reason why we were there; later on, I just assumed he wanted to cheer me out for how sour things have been in my life recently. You know him, he is always being a kind and considerate man..."

Venom started to accumulate under her tongue. "I tell myself that never would I have been capable of seeing it coming. No matter how much I like to think I would."

* * *

Hermione and Dumbledore sat in the upper terrace of one of the many picturesque coffee shops around the alley. Today the weather was pretty nice, the girl notice. The usual grey clouds were replaced with clear blue-sky, warm rays of light filtered through the leafy tall trees, and the soft breeze carried around the sweet smells of flowers from the nearby gardens. Sweet mid-afternoons filled with happy moments, not many days were like this at this time of the year.

From time to time Hermione's eyes traveled towards the people passing by, leisurely walking down the narrow streets. Some of them were window shopping, like those children who gathered at the corner of the street, hoping to take a peek through the window's display at this year's new broom models. Many others enjoyed the shopping opportunities that this season had to offer.

Many couples walked around hand by hand, sharing tender looks and blown-kisses. Families walked around with their babies in a stroller. To the brown-eyed girl, everyone looked brighter, cheerful, relaxed. Like there was nothing wrong and everything right in their lives.

At that moment, she heard the squeals of laughter coming from some of the children nearby.

And all she could think of was that she wanted to mute their stupid laughs.

She looked down at her table. Her tea was cold. Untouched.

So far, Dumbledore has been doing only small talk, about her grades, the weather, anecdotes of his life at Hogwarts. For what she could only nod and answer politely when asked. She truly wasn't in the mood to talk or to have company, of any sort. Wasn't that obvious? And, what was Dumbledore trying to do? To cheer her up? Doesn't he have more pressing matters than trying to worry about a teenage girl?

Maybe he did feel guilty, after all.

_'__Or maybe he wants to tell me something important'_

Whatever his intentions might be, the brunette just wanted to be left alone, so she can drown further into her misery. Now she had to pretend she was listening to the professor telling another anecdote of his younger days.

_'__Half smile, eyes forward, nod every time he makes a small pause in the conversation, stop smiling if he stops smiling, and blink often.' _She wondered if that was enough to fool the headmaster.

_'__Probably not' _Her mind supplied, but she trusted that he wasn't going to call her on that.

She took a sip of her cold tea, feeling the unsavory liquid passing through her trachea all the way to her stomach.

It tasted disgusting.

She smiled again.

Things hadn't improved for her. And something told her that they weren't meant to improve no matter how much she wished to. The restlessness she felt hadn't lessened at all, thankfully it hadn't increased, but as it was, this horrible tugging and need in her chest, she couldn't properly function.

As if this wasn't the only thing to deal with, she was pretty sure the friendship with Harry and Ron would take much time to be repaired. For the moment, they were exchanging forced polite words between them; it felt unnatural and awkward as if to say the wrong word would damage further the crumbling foundation of their relationship.

It was their unwillingness to sympathize with her situation that was crushing her the most. They thought she had some fault in what was happening to her. Their stubbornness and arrogance, for pretending to understand something they had no idea at all, was the main reason that the brunette felt so frustrated with them.

But despite all this, she didn't want to lose them. People say time heals everything, maybe her supposed 'betrayal' with time would soon be forgotten. Then, everything would return to normal.

Hermione did a mental note to visit Neville at the hospital as soon as she could, Yesterday, she heard from the grapevine that he finally had woken up. She wanted to apologize personally, going against all her fears of being shunned by him as well.

"…Don't you think?" Dumbledore asked, displaying a small knowing smile on his lips. The brunette blinked, coming out her reflections. He lowered his head looking at her over his half-moon spectacles, the twinkle in his eye, and his tiny smile told her everything.

"I'm sorry, professor, I've got a little sidetracked with my own thoughts." Her cheeks blushed slightly, embarrassed for being caught.

The man smiled lightly, "I understand." The knowing look on his expression said that he really understood. "There is no need to apologize, Miss Granger."

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. When his eyes reconnected with the brown ones, his blue eyes had turned serious and sober, silently implying that he wished to hold the girl's attention this time "My dear, there is something that I've been meaning to talk to you about." He straightened his back, reclining towards the table, then placed both arms on it as support.

Hermione suddenly felt that she was again in the headmaster's office and not in a coffee shop.  
She gave herself a pat on the back. Her suspicions were correct, this was about something other than an intent to make her feel better.

"You know as well as I that when someone becomes infected with your current 'issue' the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures should be informed. 2 years ago, I omit to notify the department to protect you against the backlash that this would entail. Trust me, I still stand by it, the Ministry must not know." He said in earnest. "Having said that, I believe with this new development, it'll be sensible that we should at least explain it to your parents."

The brunette dropped heavily on her chair. The Headmaster wanted her to tell her parents about being a werewolf? Just the very thought of telling them made her hands sweat. "Why now?" She asked a tad defensive. "Why not the first summer, after I became infected?""The main reason is that you are starting to present physical symptoms…" Hesitated for a moment,"…due to this new development with Madame Lestrange; while at the moment everything you are showing could be attributed towards lack of sleep and stress. It wouldn't be credible in the next months. Eventually, people will start to notice. Specifically, your parents."

He was right, she looked tired all the time, started losing weight, and the constant anxiety she felt in her chest was sometimes was visibly maddening.

In Hogwarts nobody will question it, after all, next week starts the exam terms. But in summer, it'll be harder to hide it from her family. Not even charms could help hide her appearance all the time without the risk of taxing herself further.

"I trusted you that during your summer vacations you were very careful with drinking the wolfsbane, as I regularly advised you to. Therefore, I saw no need to trouble you or your family with this." His eyes didn't stray from her own, not even for a second. "I think it'll be better for you and your parents that I'm present, not that I expect that something might go wrong, but in the sense to support you as the authority of the school."

His arguments were logical. Her parents needed to know so they wouldn't worry unnecessarily.

"I'm don't have to tell them about the imprinting thing, right?"

"No, I can't imagine they react calmly to that."

He was right about that. Her family wouldn't even believe it. Actually, she still couldn't believe it either. Hermione truly appreciated Dumbledore's support; Merlin knows she hasn't been getting any recently.

"When would you want to do it, professor?"

The man cast Tempus with his hand, it was late-afternoon. "I think now would be a good time as any. If that's alright with you?"

_'__Now? This is all very sudden…' _

Seeing the hesitancy from the girl, The Headmaster spoke once more "Miss Granger I know you have your doubts, and rightly so. Nevertheless, I wouldn't be telling you this if didn't deem it necessary." There was a sense of urgency in his tone.

_'__Summer was 2 months away, why was it so important to do it now?' _Her brain urged to consider this proposal meticulously, to foresee every problem may appear with her family. _'Or maybe the professor is right, the sooner the better. Rip like a band-aid' _

Then, she heard again it, the squeal of a child's laughter from the nearby table.

The brunette saw the expectant look from Dumbledore and impulsively relented to his proposition, anything to leave this place, she was at two more bursts of childish laughter away from hexing the next kid into oblivion.

They apparated on the other side of the street, just in front of her home.

Hermione looked around at the neighborhood where she grew up. It was the typical suburbs of London, peaceful and quiet. There weren't many fond memories of this place, as she never cared for it. Her freshest memories were from the children who lived around here and never wanted to play with her. They used to bully her for…She didn't know for what exactly. For being a know-it-all, perhaps. That's how sometimes she spent her afternoons, being picked on often by the kids of the street, which later led her to end up crying on her mother's lap.

The best memories were the ones she spent with her parents, like how her father used to tell her silly stories before bedtime and how her mom used to cheer her up after a bad day in school by bringing her favorite food. And although both of them weren't present as much as she would have liked, because they were always loaded with work, she cherished those family moments in-between.

She loved the home but disliked the rest.

The street was empty, it appeared to be that the neighbors hadn't come back from work. Something very unusual, it was almost 6 p.m. Her parent's car wasn't parked in the garage entry either.

As if Dumbledore had read her mind, he said_ "if they are not home, we could wait for them inside. With your permission, of course." _There it was again, the extremely tenuous urgency in his voice, covered by casualness. She bit her lip. Her gut said that Dumbledore was hiding something from her_.'Or maybe my lack of proper sleep is having its toll on me' _The girl reasoned. Assuming she was seeing things that were not there.

She nodded, accepting the wizard's proposal. It wouldn't do to stay outside where someone may see them.

As they crossed the street, she saw that the wheat-colored painted house had a front garden guarded by a low white fence. Finally, her mother had sown the dahlias she wanted but always complained she never had the time to plant. Pride stirred on the girl's heart, they were beautiful, her mother did a nice job. But again, her mother never did a sloppy job. She tried to instill on her the phrase: If you are going to do it, do it well. Otherwise don't do it.

Probably his dad hammered the fence, the brunette considered, if anything could be said about how uneven it looked. He should have followed her mom's advice.

Her thoughts drifted to the reason she was here, a jolt of anxiety hit her chest._ 'What would they think of me once they know?' _She couldn't bear the thought of some negative reaction coming from them.

The door was locked. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore opened it, allowing the girl to enter first.

Hermione took small steps towards the living room; everything was very clean and in proper order, probably her parents hiring a cleaning service. They didn't have the time to be this tidy.

Many photographs of them and her together were placed on the mantle shelf of the chimney. Some of them were from the vacation house in Ireland. They looked so happy. On the center table, there were, carefully pile up, the gardening magazines that she read to help her mother with her first project of gardening. From her position, she could see that the dinner table was full of paperwork, probably invoices, insurance papers, and expenses from their practice.

Everything looked so familiar. The presence of her parents was everywhere in the living room.

Then, why suddenly being inside the house felt so wrong?

"Do you think your parents would mind if we were to prepare some tea?" Asked Dumbledore, sitting on the large grey sofa in front of her. That meant she was the one to prepare the tea.

"No, they won't. I'll do us some" Trying not let her uneasiness show.

"Thank you, dear"

Ignoring the headmaster's gentle smile, she headed to the kitchen. As soon as the girl was sure she was out of his hearing, a curse came under her breath. Putting both of her hands on the kitchen worktop as it to hold herself, she took a deep breath, held it for 5 seconds, and exhaled. Hermione couldn't deny it any longer, there was a new uneasiness in her. But that could be attributed to her imprinting symptoms mixed with the concern about how her parents would react to the news.

Maybe it was this that led her to see things where there were none. Everything was in her head.

Maybe.

_'…__Or not…' _

She didn't know anymore.

_ '__Am I missing something?'_

Dispelling those thoughts for a moment and concentrating on the task at hand, the brunette opened the upper pantry. Her parents didn't fancy tea as much as fancied coffee. Turkish coffee, Indian coffee, local coffee, and some strange mixes of African coffee grain. There weren't many options when it came to tea; she wondered if she should serve 4 cups. Her parents wouldn't delay any longer surely.

_'__What would the headmaster like?' _She tried to remember the flavor of the tea she drank last week in his office. However, the flavor didn't arrive at her mind. Instead, her uneasiness rose again. Memories of that the meeting between them began to flash before her eyes. She saw his facial reactions when they talked about her imprinting symptoms. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the memory with the utmost detail.

And there it was, like a fisher harpooning a whale, pushed by her subconscious, a scene shed light into her uneasiness: One fearful look flashed on his eyes, only to be buried again by his sympathetic and concerned gaze.

'There is something he is not telling me. It definitely has something to do with me.' she concluded._ 'But why does it involve my parents?' _And, where were they? The brunette knew that by 5:30 pm everyone was at home, including the rest of the people around the neighborhood. Hermione's mind was running as fast as she could, thinking of all the possibilities. But nothing made enough sense.

"Is there something wrong?" Asked the headmaster, standing a few meters behind her, close from the kitchen's threshold.

Hermione almost jumped to the ceiling. Gathering all her will to be as casual as possible, she turned around with a small smile. "I was simply wondering what kind of the tea would like to drink, I- I think we have earl grey" she lifted the box to show "green, black and jasmine."

Dumbledore stared at her flashing a sad smile; regret filled his blue eyes.

_'__He knows…' _

"I'm sorry Hermione" His face quickly took another shape, the corner of his mouth went downwards, his usual blue colored eyes turned a stormy blue.

"…Professor?" The man had a severe look in his gaze. It felt very wrong.

"I didn't mean it to be this way. Never would I have imagined two weeks ago doing this to you, my child." She could see how his face grew tense.

"I knew you were very smart from the very beginning. You are extremely brilliant, my dear. And after you got infected, you became extraordinarily more so. I think you tried to hide it, but with time it became very evident." A half-smile, that didn't reach his eyes appeared on his face "Suddenly you didn't have to spend more time studying, the quantity of the books you read had doubled, according to the librarian. Given tasks by the professors that were time-consuming, you often finished them earlier than anyone else. Four professors told me you broke personal records from their past students."

Hermione could only try to swallow the knot that was forming on her throat. His words didn't sound like an appraisal. Why was he telling her all this? And how just did he know all that? Has he been watching her?

"You are the brightest witch of an entire generation, perhaps more than one." Still didn't sound like a compliment, instead, it sounded as pity. A pity she had to be who she was.

"Nevertheless, you have fallen for Bellatrix charms. I know it was not intended, but there is no going back from there. That night I'm sure Voldemort knew something was wrong with you, and if I know him, which I do well, you have his attention. He'll use your predicament to his advantage. With you, he would have the two brightest witches in his frontlines. And that, my dear, can make all the difference in winning the war that is coming."

_'__How dare he?! I would never do something like that—!' _Hermione opened her mouth to protest but the wizard promptly rose his hand "I'm sure that you are about to say that you would never join his ranks, but my child…" His soft voice sounded all-knowing "Once you experience the feeling to be with your mate. Not even the potion would be much help, you'll eventually turn on us. You have become a liability that I can't afford to ignore or forgive."

_'__What potion? A liability? Afford?' _

Before the brunette could even digest properly what he was saying, the headmaster continued talking "I'm so sorry, my dear. It is all my fault. If hadn't manipulated the hat, if it weren't for me you wouldn't even be involved in all this." His sounded pained. The regret and torment reflected on his eyes.

"What does it mean?" The girl uttered; her throat constricted.

_'__Manipulate the hat? ...Oh.' _Hermione grasped the edges of the counter tightly. Her instincts told her to run. Her brain told her to listen, she needed to know, to understand what was happening.

"You were supposed to be sorted into Ravenclaw, your original house. But I needed someone like you to befriend Harry."

_'__That way I can help him with his tasks, keep him alive at the very least.'_ The girl completed the un-uttered words.

Shock, anger, fear all manifested in her chest at the same time. Her cheeks were wet and her lips trembled "So, you used me? All this time I've just been a pawn in your schemes, you blo…" She stopped. Her hands trembled, whether it was from fury or panic, she wasn't sure. "Why are we here?" A painful sob escaped her lips, why was he telling her all this here? Why not somewhere else? Why now? What was the purpose?

Then it dawned on her.

Her throat dried up, her heart hammered so fast and violently that she could feel the palpitations even on the tip of her fingers.

_'__Oh god, oh god, no! no! no!'_ Terror crept in her. Forcing to open her constricted throat, she asked: "Dumbledore, where are my parents?" Dumbledore's eyes filled with shame "WE ARE MY PARENTS?!" She shouted

"I had to… Otherwise, it wouldn't work, I'm so sorry." The pained look he gave her only served to exacerbate the turmoil of her emotion. "Believe me, my dear, that if do this is only for the greater good." He raised his wand and pointed at her.

"I promise it won't be painful"

He was going to kill her.

* * *

"You can stop telling lies Miss Granger, if Dumbledore wanted you dead, you'll be dead and not here." Said the man annoyed, seemingly convinced of her deceitful words.

Hermione sneered, taking insult at his comment. Yet it did not escape her how the man phrased his sentence. Severus wasn't surprised at Dumbledore's attempts to kill the brunette.

_'__Interesting.'_

"As if I could make this up. Maybe if you'd realize that I wasn't finished, you'll know how did I escape."

"Enlighted me." He said skeptically

Hermione pulled out a coin from her pocket, the same one the Dark Lord gave her earlier. She held it between the tip of her fingers "Recognize this?" The coin was not an ordinary coin at all, it was onyx made; red snakes moved over both sides of the coin entwining with each other. It was a variation of the death eater's insignia.

"Is one of the Lord's designed Portkeys."

"Indeed. 4 days before the meeting, the morning after I put on my robes, I found a coin, similar to this one here, and a note in my pocket. It read: When in mortal danger hold it in your hand for ten seconds."

Snape stayed silent, deep in thought. Hermione observed the exact moment when the man was able to reach the answer. His lips faintly pressed into a thin line, his left eyebrows twitched a little, and his eyes opened imperceptibly bigger.

"Pettigrew." He finally said.

"Yeah." The girl confirmed with a smile "Later I learned that he infiltrated Hogwarts in his Animagus form to make a little delivery."

"How convenient" The man added

"Extremely so!" She sniffed at his choice of words. 'Convenient' didn't even begin to describe it. "For a second, I thought it was from the Order, but they never used snakes as symbolism. And, the idea that belonged to the Slytherins just sounded plain ridiculous. I was in the process of research it when everything happened" The girl explained.

"Lucky me, I kept it with me at all times." She put the coin again on her robe's pocket.

"Then what happened afterward?" Snape asked.

A breathy chuckle left her throat. "Uh-uh, No. I think that's enough answers to your question, it is my turn." The brunette decided that this was as far as she was going to go with him, he didn't need to know his interactions with Voldemort. There was no purpose there.

"The question was how did you end up here" He insisted.

"And that is the answer, the Lord rescued me with a Portkey he gave me."

"So what? He saved your life and now you feel that you own him?"

Hermione's gaze hardened; she didn't appreciate the accusation in his tone, not the simplification of something so complex.

"Oh, I'm sure if I go back to Hogwarts the benevolent headmaster will receive me with open arms." She took the sarcastic pathway. "But no, I'm only here because the living accommodations are fantastic, the Malfoy's love having me here. And the food. Have you tried the breakfast? It's to die for. Otherwise, I would have left already." She hit her forehead with an open palm. "Oh, wait! I forgot. I'm supposed to be dead. And I have nowhere to go."

Really? What was Snape trying to get out of this question? She asked herself. If the potions master hadn't figured it out by now, he would soon.

"Now is your turn to answer. Or you might as well just bloody leave" Her thumb pointed backward at the door.

"Ask." Said the man, unimpressed by her whole charade.

Hermione smiled. "I must say, Professor. Harry, Ron, and I had our suspicions that you were on the Lord's side, but seeing it for the first time is something else." She rose from her seat, pacing around the room with a meditative look on her face.

"How is it possible that Dumbledore doesn't know anything about your double life? Wait no, that is not my question." The girl was in a sort of analytic trance, where her mind ran faster than her mouth. "You and I know that Dumbledore has not a single hair of stupid on his head. That man seems to have eyes everywhere. The fact that he knew I would befriend Harry Potter, so I could help him. It makes me believe that he has always been aware of the dangers we were exposed at Hogwarts." A pity she probably would never know the truth about that one.

"He knew I've become smarter due to the Lycanthropy. How he immediately hatched a plan to kill me, because that'll be the easiest way to avoid future problems. And look at me, he turned out to be right about that last one too!" This was one of the few times she dared to objectively appreciative and admire The Headmaster's great display of wit

Hermione held backrest of the sofa where she sat moments ago, now from behind. She stared hard at the Potions Master. "No, you cannot fool Dumbledore especially if you live too close to him. So how do you do it, Severus?... You see, during our brief time together I've reached two hypotheses…" she narrowed her eyes.

"…Three actually."

_'__I think I got you…'_ she hoped she was right.

"One. You are too good at subterfuge, incredibly so, that you have managed to fool the man. Which I'm sure you can do, but not for so long. Not for all these years. Two. He knows and the only reason you are breathing is that you have some use to him." She made a dramatic pause, searching in his eyes for the right answer.

"Hypothesis three: You are spying for him."

The man didn't even blink at her accusations. Hermione would be lying if she didn't feel disappointed by his lack of reaction.

Snape stood up from the sofa, calmly smoothed his sleeves, then pulled down the front of his robe. His stoic façade never wavered. He took two steps towards the girl, the sofa serving as a division between them.

"Granger, somehow you think you have the upper hand here." He spoke at a very sedated pace. "It looks to me that your interaction or more like the lack of it with Bellatrix tells me that she has no idea about your condition, and how much power she has over you."

Hadn't Severus heard that defensiveness is the first sign of guilt?

"Should I go and let her know? I'm sure she'll be ecstatic to hear it." The threat didn't hold any hesitation from his part. "You think I'm a spy, go right now and tell our lord. With what evidence, I wonder? I have been his most loyal follower for years"

Hermione snorted "You don't have to get all defensive." She watched him walk towards the bedroom's door, the sound of his heavy steps muffled by the carpet. "It looks to me that we are going to become each other's secret-keepers." She added.

He abruptly turned around. "There are no secrets to keep, but facts Miss Granger, and you seem to lack in that area." The girl had to concede that statement. Still, that didn't waver her conviction that she was right. "You are just a child playing a grown-up game, Granger. You better stop pretending that you understand and actually try to understand…" The 'Or you'll die' remained un-uttered. Then, he proceeded to open the door.

"Severus!" He stopped under the frame door "You came for answers, because he didn't tell you what he did, did he? … Don't tell him I'm alive. I want it to be a surprise." And with that, he closed the door. Whether he would abide by her request or not, that was something that time would tell.

The girl's fingers dug into the cushion of the sofa, as she replayed the professor's last words in her mind.

"I'm not a child" The girl muttered, she has more experience, knowledge and magical abilities than anyone of her age.

Since she changed sides, Hermione has been working diligently, studying, and practicing new spells. Single-handedly, she liberated 12 death eaters, in the process proving herself to be worthy of belonging in Voldemort ranks. The Lord satisfied with her performance so far, had granted rank over most of his followers.

And just right now she uncovered Severus' secret for Merlin's sake! Something that, surprisingly, Voldemort hadn't realized. And yet still, she was regarded as a bloody child.

"Damn it!" With a swift move of her wand, she exploded the sofa where the Potions Master sat earlier, then proceed to lift the center table and throw it at the ceiling. In no time, vials and papers of no or little value to her, along with the pieces of the former sofa began to burn altogether, exploding vials and pieces of wood shot to the walls.

By the time she was finished, the place looked as if a small tornado took place in the middle of the room. Large pieces of glass were incrusted into the wall, in the damage, the wallpaper was tore apart. The carpet had burned patches everywhere; the wood and pieces of fabric lay all across the room.

Satisfied with the damage, the girl walked towards the bed; removing her clothes with every step she took. She pointed her wand at the mattress to remove any destructed piece of material. As her head submerged into the pillow, she murmured. "I just want retribution." Her eyelids closed and the last thought in her mind, like every other night, was about her parents.

* * *

She couldn't gather the strength to ask again as his face said everything she needed to know. Terror froze her muscles, not even when she faced the troll with Harry and Ron, not even when she saw the Basilisk, not when she was bitten by Remus has she ever felt such a gripping claw crushing her from inside.

Something else began to stir among the cold fear. A sense of betrayal started to creep insidiously through her consciousness. From the pit of her stomach to all the extremities in her body, wrath swallowed whatever fear she felt seconds ago.

The face contorted in an ugly shape.

"Why?! Why did you do it?" her voice spat burning acid. Fury was drowning her lungs and stomach, her chest hurt as if her ribcage was crushing her organs. The feeling could only be compared to when she transformed into a werewolf. An asphyxiating urge incited her to tear him apart with her bare fingers.

If only she could… She would kill him.

Out of nowhere, a whisper in her mind reminded her of the coin.

A frantic hand quickly went into the back of her pocket, held the coin for dear life. 10 seconds the note said.

"All because I imprinted on Bellatrix?!"

"Trust me, my dear. If there was another reliable option, I would have taken it in a heartbeat. I'm so sorry, Hermione." His words ran over her head, for she had all her senses focused on the wand aiming at her.

His wrist made an elegant twist. A bright light blinded her eyes.

Hermione disappeared.

* * *

A loud crack resonated in what appeared to be an abandoned room at first sight.

Hermione lied on her back, flat on a wooden floor. Her wet eyes were greeted with the sight of rafters having several cobwebs scattered between the poles and ceiling. The heavy scent of dust reached her nose. She stayed there, not moving a single finger. Her agitated breath began to adopt a gentler pace. A few seconds later, her heart didn't want to jump from her chest anymore.

During the first seconds, her breath had finally returned to normal. That was when she felt the first jerk on her right shoulder. Instinctively, her left hand raised to touch the muscle, just the simple effort to lift her was enough to send another jolt of pain. Wetness over the pained spot followed after that single movement. Her fingers reached lightly over the wetted cloth.

Her fingers were tinted with red. Blood.

Adrenaline had finally left her body. What started as a tolerable pain, quickly morphed into saliva spattering soft of pain. It felt as if someone was placing red coal over an open wound. Hermione opened her mouth yet no sound came from it, shock mixed with an open injury had stolen her voice.

The blood had extended to her chest. In just a short moment, she found herself once again scared for her life. Swallowing a bit of pain, she took a deep breath and howled. The girl howled for help.

Dizziness started to dull her senses. Her sight was blurry.

Soon, she heard footsteps from the lower floor. The floor shook a little with every approaching step.

She was cold.

"Master! She has arrived just like you said she would." The voice sounded familiar. The girl had heard it before…Somewhere.

Her eyelids dropped against her will.

"Bring her." A rough voice, a man.

"She is hurt."

"Put her on a bed."

Everything went dark after.

* * *

_ "__Hello, ladybug." A lively voice came from behind. _

_Hermione turned her head to see her mother, wearing a beautiful white summer dress. Her beautiful brown hair rose with the wind and a radiant, yet little mischievous smile painted her lips. Her mom always had that look when she had a surprise for her. _

_"__Mom!" The brunette ran towards her mother, her arms engulfed her in a thigh hug, pressing as hard as she could. _

_Her mother released a small chuckle "What's gotten into you?" _

"_I missed you so much." Said the girl, her voice muffled by her mother's shoulder. Her mom smelled just like always, lavender, jasmine, and a pint of rosemary. She took a deep breath and again something inside her told her that perhaps she won't be able to smell her after today. _

_Her mother hugged her as softly and firm as she knew how to. "Darling, I was out just for five minutes."_

_"__Look! I bought this dress today." Hermione took a step back to appreciate the white dress with floral embroidery. "What do you think?" _

_"__You look great." Replied Hermione with a big smile. To the brunette, her mother would always be beautiful and elegant in whatever she wore. _

_"__Just great?" Another voice came from her right "She looks like a goddess to me." Her father broke in, walking towards them. He wiggled his eyebrows separately in a silly flirty manner while he looked at his wife and daughter. That never failed to make Hermione laugh out loud._

_"__Dad! I missed you so much" Her dad was caught by surprise as the brunette threw herself in his arms. He crushed her to her chest "I missed you too, my little ladybug." The girl closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of her father. _

_Her parents briefly shared a bittersweet look._

_As Hermione let go of the embrace, curious eyes roamed the surroundings; a sense of nostalgia touched her. They were at the vacation house in Ireland; she loved this place as a child. There was an open field behind their home, always fresh and vibrant grass from spring to autumn. And in spring and summer wildflowers mantled the field as far as her eyes could reach. _

_She loved to pick the wild lilies scattered on the field with her mom, and later put them into a flower vase. Or how the three of them stargazed at night spotting stars and planets, her parents explaining her of the existence of galaxies far beyond this one. Or how her dad used to give piggyback rides around the field when she was a little girl. There were so many fond memories of this place. _

_What a shame they had sold the house. _

_Her once happy smile slowly shrunk into a frown. _

_They sold the house long before her acceptance letter to Hogwarts showed in the mail. She turned to face her parents, who were looking at her tenderly. _

_It was as if gravity had doubled on earth. Moving her legs seemed like a difficult task, the oxygen felt less, even swallowing felt impossible to do. "Mom, dad why are we here?" _

_"__My sweetest, girl" Her voice was tender, like a soothing touch. Her mother approached her, with both hands held the girl's face, gently removing the tears that were spilling from her eyes. "Your father and I are so proud of you. You are the best daughter a parent could ask for, my sweet ladybug. Don't ever forget that"_

_No matter how much love reflected her mother's eyes, she felt like choking… _

_"__We are so happy that we got to know you," Her father said, as he rested his arm over her shoulders, firmly hugging her around the neck. Both faces showed how proud they were of her._

_They looked happy, content._

_…__Like someone had grabbed her by the throat and now their thumbs her pushing deeply into her trachea. _

_"__But we have to go now." Said her mother, still with a smile on her face._

_Hermione's eyes opened wide; there was a stab in the chest, tearing apart her organs into several pieces. It must have been her lungs because she could barely breathe or perhaps her stomach, because she wanted to throw up. She felt like dying. _

_"__No, no, no, please, no." Tears spilled freely, "I want to stay with you, please just let me be forever with you. Mom, dad. Please!" She held onto her parent's bodies for dear life. "Please, please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."_

_"__Never forget us…" _

* * *

Hermione woke up on a bed, drenched in sweat, with tears running through her cheeks and breathing heavily.

'A dream?' Yet, she could hardly remember what was about. Her head was dizzy, her body ached everywhere, and the tugging in her chest began to drone over her chest.

She quickly pulled the hem of her shirt to peek at her shoulder and examine the injury. The injury, although close, had left a reddish, large round scar all above her shoulder closely extending to the collar bone. It was ugly and probably would scar. But at least it seemed thoroughly healed.

"…Bastard. Monster. How could he?" Hermione cursed under her breath. Fingers threaded between chestnut hair, trying to digest what had transpired. How could Dumbledore do this to her? Her mind couldn't wrap around the concept that a man, famous for representing everything that was good, how could he discarded her so easily under the idea that she would side with Bellatrix Lestrange.

A sob left from clenched teeth.

And if it had to kill her, why did it had to involve her parents? It didn't make sense to her. Yet she knew somehow it made sense to Dumbledore.

So many questions muddling in her head, so many feelings gathering in her chest. This not time to cry, she told herself. She would not cry, not until she knew where she was and who had helped her.

Not until she figured it out where would she go from here.

"Where am I?"

Her feet left the bed, stumbling towards the only window in the room, Hermione saw the sun setting in on the horizon. It seemed that the house was on open space as there wasn't anything on the visible on the terrain but only tall yellowed grass and far away mountains. There wasn't any sort of visible landmark from this angle of the house.

She turned around to inspect the room, everything looked old. The only three pieces of furniture look fragile, a small table on the other side of the room, the bed, and a chair next to it, which she noticed her cloak hung from the backrest. She quickly walked towards it and searched for her wand in the robe's pockets.

It wasn't there.

"Great." Whoever helped her had her wand._ 'Now what?' _

Two knocks came from the door, halting the girl's thoughts. As it opened, a very short man showed up; long frizzy hair on the sides and with a bald patch on top, his clothes tattered and dirty, his facial features could only be described as rat-like. She recognized him instantaneously.

The grey-haired man addressed her with an indifferent look as if he had never seen her before. "Good you are awake; my master wants to see you. Don't make him wait." Said Pettigrew with his rat-like squeaky voice. Not waiting for a reply, he closed the door again.

His master, as in Voldemort nonetheless, the girl thought. So that was the voice she heard at the beginning, he cured her. Or maybe Pettigrew did, under the order of Voldemort. He was the one who gave her the coin, he was the one to rescue her; he wanted her alive.

Dumbledore was right. Voldemort had taken an interest in her.

Once again, too many thoughts. Too many questions. Just one path, she knew that for now the only path available was moving forward.

With no wand in hand and nowhere to run, she concluded her best bet was just to talk with the man. Walking out of the room, the brunette assumed that this was the top floor of the house, in some sort of spacious attic. This was the place she landed; the large stain of dried blood absorbed by the wood gave it away. Unconsciously, she reached for her shoulder.

Climbing down the stairs, the brunette arrived in a large and barely illuminated room. She looked around taking in the décor or more like the lack of it. The emerald green wallpapers were almost torn from the walls, there wasn't any decorating the walls but the tattered paper. The furniture, although it didn't look as moth-eaten like the ones in the room she slept in, still looked very decrepit. At least it was dusted, the girl noticed it. A red carpet covered the wood floor, yet still, with every step she took the wood would creak under her weigh. Would Voldemort live here? She wondered. There weren't any sounds except the fire crackling in the chimney located on the other side of the room, and the ones she did with every step.

She saw two tall seats were placed in front of the fire.

"Come closer, Hermione" A rough voice called her name. Her heartbeat accelerated, yet undeterred by her own fear, the girl stepped closer to the source of the voice. As she approached the black seats, a loud hiss came from a giant snake near to her feet. She gasped at the sight, taking two steps back. "Now, Nagini. We must be polite to our guest." Voldemort gently scolded the large snake. He sat on the textured black sofa, staring directly at the girl. Nagini made a quiet hiss in reply, then proceeded to curl under his master's feet.

"Hermione, welcome. How do you feel?" Although his smile reached his red-colored eyes. It still looked more menacing than polite, which later she concluded it was the emotion he wanted to display. "Please, have a seat" He invited her to sit on the empty armchair.

She was in front of the most feared man in wizardry Britain. The who-must-not-be-named was asking to sit with him. Which was so absurd. Crazy. Insane.

And very much real.

Hermione abided his request. The fabric felt very soft and clean on her hands. "I'm fine. Thank you for saving me." The girl bowed her head.

He seemed pleased.

If she wanted to live, she needed whatever advantage. She knew the man was all about traditions according to Harry. Maybe she can use little knowledge in her favor.

"You are quite welcome; I see that you are well-mannered." He smiled again. It was unnerving.

Then he grew serious. "You have questions, I'm sure. Go, ask"

"What happened?" That wasn't exactly the question she wanted to voice, but it was the only thing she had in her addled brain.

"You apparated here 4 days ago. Barely alive, you lost blood" The man tilted his head, questioningly. "Dumbledore, I suppose?" Hermione only nodded. He showed a half-smile. "I saved you. As you must guess by now, you are not very much of use to me if you are dead."

"Three days ago, the newspapers reported a Hogwarts student, and her parents were found dead at her house in muggle London. Everyone is speculating that it was the handiwork of Death Eaters. But you and I know that isn't true, is it Hermione?"

Hermione visibly swallowed, her eyes fell to her lap. She clenched her jaw willing herself to not react, to numb herself. In the appropriate time, she'll mourn her parents. Right now, she had to move on.

When she rose her eyes again, red ones were studying her.

The brunette let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, it isn't true, sir." Now what didn't make sense minutes ago, became clear as water. "I guess, he killed my parents to push the narrative of Death Eaters. Nobody would question it happened like that."

The dark wizard pressed the tip of his fingers together. "You guess correctly."

"Does it specify the name of the student?" She asked.

"No, but the ministry can't have it under wraps for much longer, people are bound to notice your absence. Your name will come on the front pages any day now."

_'__If they found three bodies who is the third one?... Probably he didn't need one. He just needed enough time to transfigure something large enough with my appearance for the body to be processed and then buried...' _

"Had the bodies been buried?"

"Yes, one day after your supposed death, in a muggle cemetery."

_'__Buried almost immediately, people will be none the wiser' Hermione_ paused for a moment, making an effort, to digest all this. Thought of her friends came to her mind. How they will react? she wondered. Would they cry? Would they miss her? Considering her actual status, the brunette couldn't bring herself to care much.

"How did you know?" She didn't need to elaborate further, her voice filled with curiosity, the open wonderment glinting in her eyes said everything for the man to understand what was she was talking about.

"During the Tri-wizardry competition, Crouch Jr. noticed that Dumbledore went to the underground dungeons at least once a month; his report stated that he suspected the Order was gathering there for their meetings. One night he followed Albus, and what he saw was you transforming into a large werewolf while Dumbledore helped you ease the transformation. Later on, he informed me of your status." Voldemort didn't seem to be lying. When she asked him for an explanation, she didn't expect the whole truth.

"When you saw me in the atrium you just had to put two and two together."

"Almost." The man corrected her. "I wasn't entirely sure until you arrived that is."

"You want me to join your ranks," Hermione stated as she saw no more reason to avoid the main topic of the night.

"Yes, to become a Death Eater. Eventually."

"Dumbledore knew you were going to do this."

The man smiled indulgently, "As I knew you would become a nuisance for him and his plans."

It was as if they were playing chess; the board was the whole wizardry Britain and the pawns were all the people involved in the scheme. The key for winning was about to foresee the next move your enemy was going to do, and move your piece before he did it. To calculate all the options available, and all the possible outcomes.

For a second, she wondered what kind of chess-piece she was.

But Voldemort was famous for being a man with a very specific taste on who were his pawns, he liked pure-blooded or half-blooded he wouldn't accept anything less among his ranks.

_"__I'm a muggle-born. I thought you hate my kind."_

"I'm a rational man, Hermione." He said. "It'll be completely waste to kill you, at least without giving you an opportunity, especially when you show much promise already. The same thing applies to everyone else who presents worthy abilities to join my ranks." The last part sounded very rational and pragmatic to her. "But don't misinterpret my words with beliefs of equality, I do believe there is a status quo that must be kept in our society. If a muggle-born shows much talent as you, then they deserve to be praised and commended… But if not. They need to go to the lower ladder of society. Right before the magical beasts." His upper lip raised slightly.

It didn't sound too different from the structure of the actual muggle society. If someone were stupid, they wouldn't go much far in life.

"Dumbledore told me you'll use Bellatrix to convince me."

The man laughed, truly laughed. "Did he?" His eyes full with mirth "Now, that's an interesting thought" muttered to himself. "I want you to join me on your own volition." He stated, "If I were to bring Bellatrix, you'll feel that you barely have a choice."

_'__I think I barely have a choice now'_

"Which that reminds me" He started to look into his dark robe, and pull out a small vial. The vial was offered to her. "Here, drink it" Hermione hesitated for few seconds to take the vial, but ultimately opted to take it. Under the logic that if Voldemort wanted to kill or harm her, she would already be dead or harmed.

The man looked at the girl attentively as she drank the vial. "How do you feel?"

She didn't even know what was she supposed to feel.

A few seconds passed and there was nothing.

_'__I feel… nothing.'_

"Nothing…" She smiled. A feeling of relief washed over her.

She didn't feel the symptoms. They were there but numbed. She needed to concentrate to feel something. It felt less than an ant creeping on her arm.

"Good. That way you'll be able to properly function. Wormtail can give you more later along with the recipe"

Hermione felt the impulse to say 'thank you' multiple times. What stopped her was the fact of who this man was and what he has done. Evidence against him was irrefutable. Join his ranks would be going against many things she believed in. But above all, there was something she would never be able to do, that is, to kill innocents.

Brown eyes hardened, if she were to do this, there was one condition. "I won't kill innocents. I won't be randomly killing muggles"

_'__Wait, I'm seriously considering joining him?' _

Voldemort held her gaze, his face didn't display any sort of emotion. Hermione was increasingly growing restless by the stretched silence. Probably she went too far by trying to voice her convictions. After all, she was in no place to negotiate anything. She was at his mercy.

At that moment, the dark wizard rose from his seat and ordered her to follow her. They crossed to another room. Everything inside there was clean, the furniture was new and elegant. There were trinkets on the wall, mostly collections of dark magic artifacts. The bookcase replete with books, and there was a big hand-carved desk in the corner with an equally impressive leather chair behind it. Everything appeared to be very expensive even the quills as they seemed taken from cockatrices.

The man walked towards a small box placed on the center table, where maps and papers lay scattered. He opened the box and took out a wand. Her wand. "Tell me, Hermione, if you wanted to be very famous by tomorrow, what would you do?"

That question felt more loaded than it sounded. He wanted a satisfactory answer.

Hermione carefully mulled the question over her head, regarded it as a puzzle she had to solve.

Her features sober-up when she thought the answer on the tip of her tongue held so much weight. "I'll kill people. The more the better. It increases the chances to come out on the front page of the newspaper."

"Exactly." The man smiled, quite pleased. "If you want an ideology to spread faster, you better make some big explosion. The papers will give you all the publicity you need… I would say we already have the attention we need." He extended his arm and offered back her wand.

Hermione knew that to accept it, it'll be like shaking hands. This path would change everything as she knew it.

Was she ready to accept it?

She really didn't know.

Her hand grasped the wand.

There was just one last question in front of her mind.

"What would you do to me, if I don't want to join you in the end?" She stored her wand in her pocket.

"I'll let you go" Hermione saw no sign of deceit in his features, but a conceited flair settled on his features. "But where would you go, I wonder?"

_'…__Nowhere'_

Other people would say that she had a choice. She could just leave. Leave this life behind and adventure forward to uncharted territories where she could forget and move on. Settle down in a nice cottage far away from any of this. Away from the trauma, away from the pain, away from the incoming war. And for all one knew, after time had passed by, perhaps she could live a happy life.

The truth was that bad things happened to good people, this time was her turn to experience the bitter taste of life and maybe to pay the highest cost of war. A war that was about to come. When people were not careful enough, even their so-called allies would cut their throat, all in the name of the greater good.

She happened to survive, then the best thing was to adapt or she would perish, this time for real.

And if to 'adapt' it meant to bend slightly her morality and convictions. Then so be it!

Hermione had no place to go, nor she needed one. She wanted to stay. Hunger began to rumble in her body; retribution was due.

Under this reflection, a dark look manifested in the usual gentle brown eyes.

"I want revenge." She said gazing at the pleased red eyes.

"And you shall have it," Voldemort promised.

"But first, you have your first task ahead. Most of my Death Eaters are waiting for the sentence to Azkaban." He pulled out from a pile of paper a map from the ministry and the photographs of what was supposed to be the responsible Aurors that guarded the cells. "I want you to free them."


	5. Chapter 5

"Figures. Only Karkaroff would be willing to live around here" Bellatrix said to herself. Still, clear enough for the brunette to hear. Reclined on a wall, next to a window, the dark witch spied through the glass.

The village where they were sent, could only be described as the epitome of rural poverty. Isolated, seemingly forgotten. Uneven roads caked in mud due to the heavy rain dragged loose chunks of ground from the nearest hills. There weren't sidewalks, so the only way to move around was to step into heel deep of mud.

Some houses were made of stone, while had wooden structures. Both looked hardly livable from outside, the girl couldn't imagine how must they looked from inside. Most of them had shattered windows, rotting boards, some already broken, and others just barely holding itself. Doors hung from its rusty hinges, the creaking they made when swung made anyone grit their teeth.

It was early morning, and yet it looked like the sun was about to set. No ray of sunlight could penetrate the thick grey clouds in the sky. This weather gave the village an even more depressing appearance.

The place the Dark Lord provided for them was similarly damaged as the other houses, but at least didn't seem to have any holes in the wood.

Hermione slid one finger across the only table in the room, sensing how her finger gathered several layers of dust on the tip of it. Dirt was everywhere. She cast a simple charm to clean the wooden furniture.

Ignoring the mad musings from the woman, she focused on her task. A map extended on the table; the girl carefully observed the spiderweb-like streets. The first thing to do was to figure out how to arrive at the place she needed to meet with the local contact, as there was no precise location but only a red circle that covered at least had a radius of 60 meters. Furthermore, the distribution was complete chaos. Nothing seemed to be in a straight line, but an arrangement of curves, zigzags, and turns. _'What a strange place to live.'_

Dolohov knew exactly where the so-called 'spy' was, but considering lately events and clarifications, she suspected that he wouldn't be willing to give the information if she were to ask for it.

The brunette estimated that there were not more than 60 houses in the whole village, concluding that it shouldn't be that hard to find.

Bellatrix, who had been almost silent for the last minutes, started to grow restless. As she strolled towards the table with her wand in hand, obsidian eyes never strayed from the muggle-born.

Hermione traced her finger on the narrow streets of the map wanting to memorize the different patterns, before going out.

Two pale hands hit on the map, blocking the view for the girl.

The young witch looked up from the table, already annoyed by the action. "Is there something you want?"

For what little the brunette knew of the woman, Bellatrix was a proud pure-blood witch with a volatile temper. Voldemort insinuated a little about her difficult moods. It was hard to predict the abrupt displays of anger. Impossible to know what was going on her head when she seemed in a 'docile' mood and easy to know when she was in her 'chaotic' one.

So far, she had avoided Bellatrix as much as it was possible. Despite the aggressive protests of her wolf, which thanks to the potion, were easier to ignore. Instincts that pulled her towards the woman were silent too. She didn't have to restrain as before. With a clear mind on her shoulders, Hermione was thoroughly convinced that nothing good could come from Bellatrix Lestrange.

_'What was Voldemort thinking when he put us together for this mission?'_

"Yes, I do" She sneered "I want to know what are you doing here, filthy mudblood." If her gaze could physically pierce, Hermione would have been stabbed by now.

"You can ask The Lord yourself." She responded automatically.

"I'm asking you now, filth." The woman adopted an intimidating expression. Her fingers clawed at the map, without tearing apart.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because I'm asking you! And when I ask you a question, you'll answer!" Bellatrix upper lip raised further. "I don't trust you, filth."

"None that concerns you, Lestrange. But if you so badly want to know, you can ask our Lord yourself." Hermione flashed a smile, taunting smile. "Or is it that you are too scared to ask him?" The next thing she saw was Bellatrix flipping the table aside; the map rose on the air. A strong and firm grip held her by the hem on her robes and shirt, then pushed her back towards the wall, where Hermione crashed her back against the planks, whimpering at the impact. A wand dug on her cheek.

The girl caught a glimpse of the map finally touching the floor.

"You are very brave, girl. Stupidly so." The dark witch spat.

Hermione deliberately ignored how quickly the air became stiff and toxic. Opting to remain calm and collected, she displayed a short smile. "From 'mudblood', to 'filth' and then to 'girl'." Her eyes glittered with defiance. "Great, I like being promoted."

Her attitude made the woman display a feral snarl on her face. Her eyes darkened, and the fist gripping her clothes was now pushing into her neck.

"What are you going to do, Lestrange. Crucio me?" Hermione raised her head, meeting with the angry black eyes. Oxygen started to become thin.

"There are other things I can do to you than Crucio" Red-ruby lips spread to take shape into a predatory smile, most likely visualizing all kinds of tortures she could practice on the muggle-born.

"If you do it and I can't properly function, I'll tell The Lord it was your fault why Karkaroff managed to escape. Again." Hermione emphasized on the 'again' letting the woman know that she was aware of their past failure.

The push on her neck softened; she stopped breathing through her mouth.

Bellatrix's snarl weakened at the threat. Her warning had seeped into the woman's reasoning. Still, the grip maintained its firmness.

"I didn't peg you for the tattletale type." She looked down on her like someone would look a dirty mutt. The woman pulled and pushed her towards the wall again, this time Hermione didn't give her the satisfaction to show pain. "Get to work, filth." She ordered, as she released her and the proceeded to put back her wand in her holster.

Hermione's jaw and fists clenched tightly; an impulse to retaliate vibrated in her fingers. She wanted to reach her wand and throw the nastiest curse she could think of, then send the woman into oblivion. The fantasy and the want died after a few moments. As she watched the woman walk back towards the window, her gaze grew heavy until it fell to the boarded floor.

In reality, she couldn't hurt a single hair of Bellatrix Lestrange. Aside from the fact that Hermione knew that she wasn't capable of defeating the woman in a duel. The imprint connection wouldn't allow her to hurt her or let someone else hurt her for that matter. She tried no to think too much about that; it was simply stupid to think that somehow, she had become a sort of protector.

Completely bonkers.

So, the only thing the brunette could do now was to not give her the satisfaction that the hit had hurt her. That was all. The girl straightened her clothes, took out her wand, and went ahead to place everything in order again as if nothing had transpired seconds ago.

Even when interrupted the brunette's ability to focus easily returned to her; however, as she tried to read the map patiently, the woman's toxic smell lingered in her nostrils making her lungs burn every time she breathed. Yanking the map, she rolled it up and threw it into her leather satchel. It was time to get out of here and put things into motion.

Fixing her dark cloak and putting the hood over her head, Hermione headed outside. A gust of wind blew with intensity as she closed the door, brown curls whipped on her face, followed by particles of dust that entered into her eyes.

She couldn't wait for all this to end.

Even though the girl had an innocuous appearance, it was better to keep a low profile by pretending to be one of the locals.

The more she walked the more she found this place dreadful. Poverty and misery were the main themes in this village, they didn't even seem to have a proper sewage network, as she caught a whiff of excrement once or twice already. Every step she took her feet submerged in mud; the end of her cloak was moist by what she hoped was only water. With an innocuous appearance and dressed for the part, that is wearing old clothes, Hermione blended perfectly among other members of this town. Nobody batted an eye at her when she passed by the occasional inhabitant.

As she walked through the alleys, the brunette kept thinking of the earlier altercation. The way Hermione saw it, Bellatrix Lestrange was a damn child. Childish and petulant. An arrogant bitch. She despised her and everything that she portrayed. There was nothing redeemable in her. Regarded as one of the smartest and most powerful witches in the entire United Kingdom; Hermione had yet to see it. It seemed more of an inflated statement, to be honest.

Now that she caught more than a glimpse of Bellatrix, it truly baffled her how could that capricious woman be her chosen mate?

She caught a whiff of the woman's aroma, her scent. It was incredible. Even now with the potion, she was able to smell her, She had to wonder how invasive could it be if she wasn't under the effect of the numbing potion.

The brunette immediately dispelled those thoughts from her head. The mere idea invited recklessness.

She arrived at the indicated place with less effort that she thought was going to be necessary. Now she just needed to locate the exact store, a tobacco store if the information was correct. Taking short steps, scanning from left to right and back again, Hermione searched for a tobacco advertisement. Or just something that said: 'Store.'

Just right in the corner, there was a shabby-looking house with a hand-painted sign announcing 'Fag' on the door. Red color, disproportionate, and the F was written in a lowercase letter; the only sign— terrible one— that said this place could the right one.

When she opened the door, a bell that was supposed to ring, just made a dried noise. The color said enough about how rusty it was.

"Hello?" Nobody was on the counter. "Is there anyone here?"

"Aye, aye! I'm comin'! Ye wait for a moment!" A harsh guttural voice came from the room behind the counter. She heard the muffled sounds drawers or maybe closet doors opening and closing.

Hermione looked around as she waited, the interior was tidier and more illuminated. Ironwood tables displayed the many varieties of tobacco.

_'Why would someone decide to put a business here?'_

Every box had written down on small plaque the name, the brand, and the date of when was harvested. She saw the price tags and how expensive the products were, it seemed that aging made the difference between good and bad quality. Her eyes moved to another section; this one displayed cigars and cigarettes from other countries specifically the city or town where it came from.

_'Huh, imported goods? This far away?'_ The brunette saw that the man even had a sample table. His business seemed quite proliferous. _'Who could afford these prices in a place like this? '_

"I'm sorry for the delay," A short man spoke, standing next to the counter. A man shorter than Hermione, his head reached her shoulder. He looked in his mid-forties almost fifties.

_'Well, people say smoking stunts your growth.'_

"How can I help ye pretty lady, are ye lookin' cigarettes for your boyfriend or husband?" His green eyes scanned her up and down "Don't ye get me wrong but ye don't look the smokin' type to me" He smiled flashing his yellow teeth.

With a half-smile, Hermione replied "I'm looking for cigarettes, the Slovakian type"

The man's face turned serious and sober. A hand went through his short oily hair. He nodded once and made a motion to follow her behind the counter. "Aye, we have those. They're in storage."

As they passed through the door that connected to the other room, Hermione saw another type of store. Dark artifacts.

_'So, this is the real store. More profitable than cigarettes, no doubt.'_

Hermione saw many forbidden as equally valuable artifacts on the shelves. Eyes of Kistrania for multiple petrifications, Nightwraiths' ashes, Elemental Stones; Hermione has only seen those stones in books, they were rare to find and illegal due to how easy they exploded. Other shelves had rare potions ingredients earth tongue, the bastion of death. Even Attar of Black Lotus, the strongest poison ever crafted. Cursed instruments of torture. Books, probably all of them for dark magic.

She wondered if there was a chance for perusing, maybe even buy something.

They arrived at the end of the corridor, to what looked his place of work; a small desk, a pile of papers on top of it, and more paraphernalia of a typical wizard office. The man turned to face her. He didn't bother to conceal how nervous he was. "Alright, Karkaroff had been comin' 'ere for at least one time a month, in the past 6 months. The last time he came was yesterday around mid-afternoon. That's all I know."

_'Well, that won't do'_

"Why is he coming here?" The brunette asked.

"He comes to buy some of me books" the man scratched his cheek.

"Mister…"

"Groscki"

"Mr. Groscki, I'm sure you can provide with more information than that."

"That is the only thing I know." He replied, then crossed his arms. "I swear."

Impatience stirred in her, she forced her voice to remain kind and polite. A sweet smile appeared on her features. "I understand Mr. Groscki. But to my knowledge, the Dark Lod paid you handsomely for any information you might provide, and right now I don't think this is enough, or the right information, actually. I highly advise you to think about your answer this time. Where is he right now? What exactly is he buying from you? And the purpose of it?"

He took a step behind. "I can't say more; I'm already risking my neck just by talking to one of ye."

Maybe it was the earlier fight with Bellatrix or perhaps the fact that the moist from the mud was soaking her boots and the tip of her socks, something that vexed her greatly. Moreover, this man was blatantly underestimating her. That angered her more than wet sock and Bellatrix together.

Hermione's gentle façade dropped faster than lead, displaying her growing vexation. Her wand slid down from the sleeve to her hand.

The man must have seen this as he suddenly was willing to elaborate more.

"Look," He opened his palms in the universal sign to calm the situation. "All I know is that he lives somewhere near 'ere. He comes once a month to buy dark magic books. I don't know where he lives n' what is he doing or planning. The first time he arrived 'ere, he came to buy tobacco, but when I saw he bore the dark mark of ye- know-who, I offered him the rest of me products. He doesn't talk and I don't ask. I swear that's all I know"

"What are the contents of those books?"

"I don't know" The man quickly retorted; too quick for Hermione tastes.

She threw a Cruciamen hex.

The man clutched his stomach, then fell on the floor; red-faced and whimpering. "Ye fucking bitch" he gritted through his disgusting teeth.

"That was a warning." The girl calmly, "What was on those books"

"I really don't know!" Said through clenched teeth.

Hermione quickly cast a Muffliato charm, to ensure people outside could not hear the wails of the man. "Mr. Groscki, what you just experience was a modified version of the Cruciatus curse and while most of the Death Eaters enjoy using this curse. I'm on the more creative side, how do you feel about some Transmogrifian torture?"

The man's lips trembled in sudden fear. "All I— I know is that they are even forbidden for the dark arts, No— not even dark magic wielders would dare to use it. My supplier just sells it to me but I never open them, to know more will get me into trouble." Hermione, still with her wand pointing at him, gazed at the pitiful man on the floor as he kept clutching his stomach. For a few moments, she weighed whether he was telling the truth or not.

"Please, I don't know anymore. I don't want to get into more trouble." He begged.

She ignored his pleas. "Do you have any idea where he might be hiding?"

"Probably in the woods, he always has residuals of pine needles on his coat"

"When he comes to the store from which side he is coming from?"

"What?" sounding confused

Another hex. Same place. This time, the man howled in pain.

"Left or right?"

"Right! Right! Damn it!" Said while gasping for the air that abruptly had abandoned his lungs.

"For your good health, I hope that is true Mr. Groscki."

Hermione's eyes wandered around the room hoping to find anything that could give any indication of the actual time. But found nothing. She bit her lip debating between walk away or perhaps…

_'It'll only take a second'_ Convincing herself. This wasn't a chance she was willing to pass.

"Mr. Groscki, I'm going to take a look at your items, I'm sure you won't mind." The man didn't reply, choosing to remain on the floor in a fetal position.

Hermione walked towards the book section, for such a small place he had quite the collection, perhaps she would find the information she had been looking for. The tip of her fingers caressed the leather books, reading their titles one by one. There were books of blood magic, a dangerous branch of dark magic, and not that rewarding from what she had read from other authors. 'The secret art to summon spirits', 'Dark magical beasts and its properties', 'How to improve imperious curse', 'Hexes, worse than a curse? It can be possible.'

'Hm?' She took the large heavy tome. 'Maledictus: Origins and Creation.' This might be what she was looking for.

She stepped outside to the main small corridor, walked with tome under her arm towards the man, sitting on his desk. He seemed to have finally recovered from his little 'misfortune'.

"How much for the book?" Asked the girl.

"50 galleons" Grumbled the short man.

"No way! I'll give 40 galleons and is already a good deal." Perhaps its worth was fifty galleons, but Hermione only had forty. Either he accepted, or she would to torture for it. She truly wanted the book, after all.

"Whatever, give them. And never come back" Hermione handed him the money. While he snatched and put it in his back pocket, a wand was aiming at him.

"Obliviate." She made sure to completely erase their encounter.

The brunette flashed a lopsided smile. "Well, thank you so much for your help. I'm sure I'll be coming back soon. Mr.…"

The man gave her a blank stare, still coming out from his daze. "Mr. Salzlinski." He said after a moment, displaying his yellow teeth in a slightly confused smile.

Hermione got to give it to the man, it was a smart move.

"Well, Mr. Salzlinski, Thank you so much for everything." She shrank the book and put it into the satchel on her side.

"Goodbye Miss." Said the man, fully smiling this time.

Leaving the store behind, Hermione turned right as the man said. Although she didn't rush, so to avoid curious looks, her steps kept a naturally quick pace.

Heading southeast, she arrived at the edge of the village. The information seemed to match with the one on her map. A forest with three black dots, each one covered a large extension of land that marked the possible whereabouts of Karkaroff. The closest mark was straight ahead, maybe one-hour walking.

This side of the village was wild and pathless, bushes and stunted trees grew in small patches of barren land. The grass was skimpy and grey. And the leaves in the branches had a gloomy green, as they were about to die.

The land seemed barely alive. _'How odd.'_

Hermione saw that a part of the land sloped away below a couple of meters from her position. Down there, there a was a grey river barely gleaming in the very thin sunlight, a woman was washing her clothes by the shore.

She decided to approach; the land was steep but luckily easy to walk on it.

"Good morning, madam." Hermione cordially greeted. The woman stopped washing the fabric on her hands, looking at the girl suspiciously, grey eyes looked her up and down.

"Good day child, how can I help ye?" The red-haired woman gave a short smile, many front teeth lacking.

"I was wondering if the land around has always been this…dead."

The woman seemed to be momentarily confused over the girl's weird question. "Nay. Me dah works the land, he says he had never seen a season so dried that even if it rains, the crops still die. This year's season is crazy If ye ask me."

"Crazy how?" That sounded quite intriguing.

The woman shrugged "Last year everything was green and pretty. The crops were healthy, we got our bellies full before going to sleep. This year everything seems to die for no reason."

"I see, thank you" The woman made an acknowledgment noise and went back to washing her clothes.

With that new piece of information, Hermione felt the need to investigate further and the best way to do it was going into the forest.

Aware that going alone wouldn't be wise, she hesitated to follow her idea. On the other hand, she could just take a little peek before going back. After all, the less time she had to spend with Bellatrix until nighttime the better.

_'Just a little bit.'_

She headed towards what marked the beginning of the forest. The trees were tall, with large and thick branches. Every tree meshed together, denying most the light under their shadow. This place was darker than the hideout they were at right now. She kept walking in a straight line. With her wand in hand, hoping to detect any hint of charms or any trace of magic, anything that could give her a clue. Her feet submerged in over the bed of leaves, branches crushed beneath her boots; the brunette sensed that every taken step, the noise resonate louder.

As she kept moving forward, a pattern began to appear. Some trees were almost fully decrepit, while others seemed on the process of dying. A few more were still full of life. Hermione thought of what kind of natural phenomenon could cause this. There were no traces of intentional destruction or contamination. No discoloration or bacteria that were slowly killing them. No traces of termite either.

Her gut told her that this was related to magical aspects. But what kind of spell could do that? And with what purpose?

_'Let's find out.' _

The girl pointed her wand at the dying tree, reciting the spell for dispelling "Finite Incantatem." Nothing. Perhaps she could be able to return it to its original form then "Reverte." Nothing again. So that meant that it wasn't directly affected. The trees weren't the targets perhaps, but collateral damage. "Surgito." Not a single change.

She searched for explanations for this phenomenon, yet nothing came close to what her eyes were seeing. More than before, she was convinced that magic was at play, and where magic was present it could probably mean that Karkaroff was near. Considering that she was closer to the first mark on the map.

Her steps quickened, Hermione walked, and watched, and listened, waiting for the lead that would point her in the right direction.

While listening, she realized that there was nothing. Silence. No sound around her but only the noise of her breathing and her steps. No birds, no crickets, no cicadas.

Impossible not to have the drilling noise of the cicadas during summer!

She didn't know what make of this, only that it rubbed her the wrong way. This wasn't normal. Perhaps walking wouldn't be the wisest thing to do. She looked around one last time, deciding that it was time to return.

She apparated to the house.

A loud pop originated from the main room of the hideout. Bellatrix sat on the chair with her feet on the table, watching the girl stumbling sideways once she properly reappeared.

Hermione heard the snicker behind her back; her head turned around to look at the woman, that happened not to be looking her way. Instead, she was playing with a knife between her fingers.

"Well, what did you learn?" Bellatrix demanded; her eyes didn't stray from the knife as it fluidly moved between her fingers.

The girl shrugged. "Not much as I would like."

"You are useless, then." Bellatrix mocked her.

Ignoring the barb, the brunette began to explain: "The spy in this town said that Karkaroff goes to his establishment once a month for the past 6 months. He buys books, the man couldn't say exactly the type of-"

"Oh yes, because he is going to tell you willingly."

"No, he wasn't willing." Retorted the girl in a clipped tone.

"So, you tortured him? With what? Your face?" The dark witch laughed.

"A hex"

"A hex" Bellatrix mimicked in a childish voice. She stopped playing with her knife to gaze intently at the girl "I would have thrown Crucio at him"

She removed her mud-stained cloak and threw it on the chair sitting in a corner. "I wanted him able to talk, not to end up like the Longbottoms."

Bellatrix made a derisive noise at her comment.

"Well, maybe next time take a Polyjuice potion and come with me. Then you can interrogate him to your heart's content" The girl said casually.

"You don't know do you, mudblood?" Bellatrix raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow. At Hermione's blank look, she cocked her head, then rose from her chair and pointed at the window "Look outside and tell me what do you see?"

Maybe it was Bellatrix's sudden sober tone or perhaps her own curiosity what made her entertain the woman's request and walked towards the window. "I see… people?"

"Look again."

Hermione felt the witch's presence close behind her, her smell invaded nostrils once again. Taking shallow breaths, she focused on whatever the woman wanted her to see. Men and women walked outside; some were rushing towards their destination while others had a leisured pace. Her eyes moved from one side to another, scanning everything that what visible from her position.

Someone opened the door from the house in front of them; a man came out appearing to be in his sixties. As he closed the rotten door of his house, his eyes connected with hers. An uneasiness crept upon the brunette. The man smiled; the tip of his fingers pinched the front of the beret on his head tilting slightly as a form of greeting. It was then when she saw it. From his sleeve peeked out the tip of a wand.

"Some of the people living here are wanted wizards by the Ministry, Karkaroff is not the only one in hiding" Bellatrix reclined her body on the wall beside the window, black eyes glared at her. "Seeing one unknown face is bad enough, but two together. Begs for trouble." The woman explained.

Understanding dawned on the girl's face "They are watching us…"

"No. They are watching _you_, mudblood" Red lips formed a cruel smile. "That's the reason you came to this little field trip. They don't know who you are and they don't know what you want. But if they think you are trouble, they will do anything to stop whatever may disturb their disgusting haven here."

The brunette berated at herself; how could she have missed this? Has she been obvious on her intentions? She wanted to say no. But still, it was hard to tell.

Another thought took shape in her mind, she turned to glower at the woman. "You knew, and you didn't care to tell me?"

Bellatrix's smile went wider. "And miss the opportunity of you getting caught? I don't think so." Dark shadowy curls bounced as Bellatrix walked back to sit on her chair.

Before impotent anger overtook her mind, Hermione shook her head dispelling any desires to curse the woman. She saw that there was no use to engage her further. The why's and the how's didn't matter as the dark witch would only extend the conversation for her own amusement.

"Don't give me that look, filth. Consider it a test. One that you failed by the way."

The brunette gave one last spiteful look at the Death Eater before turning around and move to another area of the house.


	6. Chapter 6

_"…While popular belief in western countries explains that Maledictuses are somehow related to Animagus or Metamorphmagi. A new theory has come to life according to recent research by Qiang XingNa, head professor of Asian History of the Enchantry and Thaumaturgy School. Professor Qiang has stated the creature Nüwa c. 405- Unknown, a woman half-snake half-human from the Zhou dynasty, might be the first form of Maledictus just before the curse itself was perfected. During the Zhou era all through earlier years of Tang dynasty—just before the Secrecy of Magic law was applied by the Ministry in 630 B.C— Nüwa was regarded by the muggles as the Snake Goddess, a highly revered one too. She was called 'The one that repaired the heavens' according to muggle records. While Magical records of Nüwa are more down to earth. She was the daughter of a very influential wizard who governed large parts in the capital of Chang An. Educated by the best tutors available she grew up to be one of the most talented witches of the era…"_

Hermione felt a small push on her head, similar to when someone softly knocked their knuckles on the surface. Her eyes rolled in mild exasperation.

_"…Promised to wealthy landowner's son. Nüwa rebelled against his father's decision, for she had already a lover: Her brother, Fuxi. However, their forbidden love didn't last long, a servant allegedly saw them copulating one night. Word spread quickly among the servants, in no time arrived at the Lord's ears. Enraged by the disgraceful act of his children, he exiled them from the country, not before cursing his own daughter. Although there is no record of what specific spell Lord Yu used, he was widely known for being a blood magic practitioner. The curse intention was that if Fuxi and Nüwa were to procreate only snakes would come out of her. But what the father didn't expect was that by casting the curse, Nüwa would take the shape of a snake as well… Little is known of what follows after their banishment…"_

Her nails scratched the cover of the book. "What do you want?!" Hermione turned to look at the culprit, sitting on the other side of the room innocently balancing on the chair.

"What are you talking about, mudblood?" Replied Bellatrix, cleaning the invisible dirt under her nails.

"Of you trying to use Legilimency on me."

The woman snorted at the tired voice of the little witch. "Can you blame? You are too easy"

The brunette gave her one last look, deciding that Bellatrix wasn't about to get more reactions out of her. To engage her meant more trouble than to ignore her. While the dark witch had been in an aggravating mood, she hadn't attempted to go further than that. That itself was a win. Hermione assumed the only reason the woman hadn't escalated her aggression was because of the current situation. Otherwise, little she could do to stop the woman.

In another time, she would be terrified of just sharing the same space with Voldemort's First Lieutenant. It said a lot that the infamous witch was even feared among her peers. This woman hated her kind, given the opportunity, she would Crucio her to her heart's content.

Still though, as brown eyes were fixed on a spot in the middle of the paged, Hermione wasn't scared. None at all. And it may be, she reflected, that the imprint had much influence in her actual feelings towards the woman. She found the witch unlikable in too many levels; nasty, vexing, childish, arrogant, — there were too many flaws to count, and no virtues point out— but not scary, she didn't find Bellatrix scary.

There was another explanation for her fearlessness completely unrelated to the imprint. Perhaps the imprint had nothing to do with not being scared of the woman. _'I'm a Gryffindor, bravery is our thing.'_ Except that she wasn't a Gryffindor. She was a Ravenclaw. Funny that.

Hermione stuck with being brave than a hypothesis that she didn't want to think about.

Coming out of her daze, her eyes searched for the last paragraph she read earlier.

With amusement still evident on the alabaster face, Bellatrix stretched her numbed limbs, yawning. Boredom caught up to her again.

Outside the pitter-patter of the rain and distant rumble of thunders were the only sounds traveling in the room, along with the occasional huff and sigh from the girl.

A pale hand with slim fingers extended on the table. Four fingers commenced drumming on the wood. Again, and again. The 'tap' of her long nails made the sound louder and acute. Again. She applied more force. Again. Fingers felt in perfect sequence. Faster.

She kept going.

Nothing.

The brunette kept true to her word; she wouldn't let the woman riled her up again.

Bellatrix rose from her chair; the usually imperceptible rasping sound of her black leather corset could be clearly heard across the room. The wood cracked and groaned under her heels. With hands behind her back, she advanced in slow steps towards the window.

The streets were empty by now due to the storm, which had been pouring down in the last 2 hours. Nighttime was one hour away at most. If this were to continue, long-distance visibility would be a problem in their search. Hermione knew Bellatrix was thinking the same because a curse was uttered.

Unable to read the last paragraph because of her lack of concentration, she turned the page to the next chapter. While the history and origins of a curse were very interesting in its own right, there was a pressing need to find the practical use that this book offered. _'Hopefully, this would contain something useful. Or I'll be back to the beginning again.'_

From the upper side of her field of vision, she saw a pair of boots with killer heels. "What are you reading, mudblood?" The woman sniffed down at her, looking as if Hermione just insulted her.

The brunette looked down again. "None of your business."

With a non-verbal Accio, the dark witch caught the book in her hand, taking the girl by surprise. "I don't like your tone, filthy mudblood." The woman said, voice full of warning. Her nose sticking up in the air,

"Again with the threats?" So much for staying away from Bellatrix. Her scent was quickly polluting the oxygen around her. Though still tolerable, the scent was stronger than before. That could only mean that the potion was losing its effects, soon she would have to take one more dose. Preferably far away from the prying black eyes.

The woman ignored her as she randomly flipped the pages of the book. "If you really must know, I'm learning about Maledictuses." Said the girl.

The dark witch closed the book. Her sight connected with the brunette, studying her with a look that dripped pure suspicion.

"Why? Are you planning to curse someone?... Maybe little ol' me?" She asked with a coy voice.

A humorless chuckle escaped the girl's lips "You realize that to curse someone is needed to brew different potions, right?"

"Of course, I know." Her tessiture changed from childish to harsh, as the mere question offended her. "But again, who are you planning to curse?"

"I'm not planning anything." Hermione extended her hand asking back for the book. "I just like to read stuff."

"Stuff?" Her voice was full of skepticism. "Maleficarum from elven tongue: One who is most flagitious. Maledictuses are the consequences of Maleficarum practices, a very gruesome form of blood magic. Requires months to prepare the spell, if you happen not to be a blood magic wielder. It is said that some ingredients are almost impossible to find in western terrain. Not to mention the price you have to pay to curse your victim is very high, even deathly. There are scarcely records of people claiming to survive the price of casting. But I'm sure you already did know all this."

Getting closer to the girl's face, Bellatrix spoke to her like she was talking to a little girl. "And that is why I don't believe you, filth. I can see when someone is lying." Her upper lip raised. "You whole disgusting face screams liar." No giving her chance to reply, the dark with continued "So, who are you planning to curse? Your boyfriend Potter? Is that somehow related to the reason why you faked your death?" She cocked her head, dark black curls cascaded to her side, revealing a long elegant neck, with an ugly 93 tattooed under her ear.

"It puzzles you, doesn't it?" A hint of realization laced in the accusative words. "You are frustrated because you don't know what I'm doing here. Do you think that by learning why I'm reading this will give you a clue into why the Lord has chosen me?"

"If I can't torture you for it…" Bellatrix replied with a shrug. Not bothering to deny that the girl was right.

Under other circumstances, Hermione would laugh out loud at the fractious tone of hers, but today she just felt tired at her petulant antics "You believe you can detect lies, how about this one: I don't plan to cast maledictus on someone."

Black eyes running through her face, looking for any sign of deception. She squinted at her but said nothing.

"Can I have the book back?" She extended her arm once more.

"Maybe later." She put it on the table, planting her hand on the cover. "You still haven't told me what else you found in your earlier expedition"

"If you hadn't interrupted me earlier, you would have known by now"

"I'm all ears right now"

Hermione easily relented, because what else could she do? "The informant sold books to Karkaroff. According to him, he has never read them. Actually, he was very scared to even mentioning those books. He said that this sort of information scared even the most seasoned dark wizards. Do you have any idea what that could be?"

"I might have some ideas" The woman adopted a thoughtful look.

Hermione waited a few seconds for her to elaborate. "Are you going to share?"

She frowned, then scoffed "No." Her hand made a motion telling the girl to continue.

"After that, I headed southeast and enter the forest bordering on the outskirts. To simply put it, the forest looked like it was dying." The brunette very lightly cocked her head to one side, trying to understand what she saw. "I saw, I know it sounds silly, but it looked like someone had sucked the life out of them. Patches of land were barren, while others were alive. And no, before you ask, I did all the possible charms and spells that might help trace any sort of magical residue. I found nothing. Something else that seemed highly abnormal is the fact that there was no sound of life."

Bellatrix started to pace around the room. Her face didn't show any emotion. Whether she was listening to her or not, Hermione couldn't tell.

"I checked in the map as well that my actual position matched with one of the possible locations of Karkaroff, which it did." She licked her lips. "Do you think—"

A hard knock came from the front door, startling both witches. The brunette quickly stood up from her chair; her wand instantly came into her hand. They weren't expecting anybody, that was for sure. Bellatrix, who seemed to be running a thousand thoughts in her mind at the same time, didn't react at all. After a second knock, the woman just made a motion for the girl to stay silent. She cast a non-verbal spell, for what Hermione guessed by the movement of her wrist was a Muffliato charm. Then proceeded to carefully approach the wooded door placing herself next to it. A sharp move of her head indicated the brunette to open it.

With her arm behind her back, Hermione confidently walked towards the iron handle, gave one last look at Bellatrix, and opened the door.

A man dressed in wizard clothes appeared in front of her. Hermione recognized him immediately, he was the man she saw earlier, the one from the house across the street. His dirty old clothes left behind, this time the wizard was well dressed. The clothes even looked costly; definitely hand-tailored. The girl noticed that he carried a healthy color on his face, unlike the many villagers she saw on the street. Seeing him up close, the stranger didn't seem to be older than 50 years old at most.

"Goodnight, Miss." A polite smile formed on his lips. His voice was soft and cultured, hardly a tilt in his words. "This weather is quite dreadful, isn't it?" Tilting his head to the side, he pointed with his thumb at the pouring rain. The smile never left his lips, but his eyes flashed a hint of apprehension. "Do you think we can talk inside?"

The brunette understood clearly it wasn't a request. This couldn't be good. Denying entry would come up as outright suspicious, she knew this. And accepting the request opened another door with dangerous possibilities.

She returned the polite smile. "It is always a pleasure to meet someone of our kind, please do come in" hiding her weapon under her arm, Hermione stepped further inside allowing the man to follow her. The door immediately closed behind him.

"I must apologize, but I have no tea or coffee to offer you, Mr…" Hermione tapered off, trying to concentrate on his face and not in the woman stalking behind him.

"Mr. H, and that's fine, Miss."

_'Mr. H?... What a silly way to remain anonymous'_

"I won't be much longer here to require sustenance." His eyes scanned the sight in front of him "I see you still have to fully furnish your ho—"

He was cut off by Bellatrix trusting her wand into the back of the wizard's head. For a moment Hermione pitied the man, his face said everything.

"Move a muscle and you die." Her voice was dangerously low. "Your wand, now!" she demanded. The brunette took three steps behind and rose her wand too. He carefully reached for his wand from inside the pants pocket. Bellatrix quickly snatched from his fingers. "On your knees!" She pushed her wand further onto him.

The flickering fear on the man's features had faded. "Well misses, I believe we find ourselves in quite a pickle" The man sounded confident as he kneeled. An odd response which the girl frowned upon. "As it happens, there are men, well, wizards are outside waiting for me, if I don't get out after some time. They'll come in looking for me." He explained.

Bellatrix cackled. "So, before you came here, you called for reinforcements? Are you so afraid of a little girl?"

Hermione saw how his features became slightly confused at the response. Apparently, he was expecting a very different reaction. The wizard turned his body to catch a glimpse of the woman who was stabbing the wand at him.

"…Bellatrix Lestrange." From this angle, the brunette couldn't see his face, but his voice said everything and more. Surprise and fear vibrated in his throat.

"Glad to hear my reputation precedes me" Red lips spread into a wide smile, enjoying the effects of her presence. "Voldemort's first lieutenant, at no-one's orders" She did a mocking bow.

The man turned to face Hermione. "And who are you, miss?"

"My apprentice." Answered Bellatrix while looking at the brunette with a warning look.

"I see." Said Mr. H, trying to display a dignified look. "I just came from the tobacco store; the owner is a good friend of mine. I'm sure you've met him, miss." His eyes hardened at Hermione "I just came from helped him to cure some nasty scars on his chest and stomach. He says he doesn't recall what happened to him. He merely remembers a pretty brunette with a kind smile, his words not mine, with a book in hand that apparently she bought there." His eyes pointed at the dark leather book on the table, then turned to an unfazed Bellatrix. "Your apprentice tortured one of ours"

"And you came here to scold me or perhaps looking retribution, is that it?" Asked Hermione, her wand pointed at his face.

The wizard swallowed. "I came to ask you what is your business here."

Bellatrix chuckled at his words. "I don't think you are in a position to ask anything."

"We may be criminals but we have a protected community here." The man-made an affronted expression. "You just tortured a man for what? Nothing!"

_'Criminal?' _This man didn't look like one. Hermione carefully assessed him, he was well educated, very well-groomed, his teeth were white and in perfect condition considering his age and where he lived. And above all that, he seemed none violent at all. Yet, he called himself a criminal.

_'Ah! financial criminal then.' _

"Your friend and I had a business deal. He didn't want to fulfill the end of his bargain; I had to throw some persuasion." The brunette calmly explained.

This didn't make sense, Hermione thought. Assuming her assessment was right. Why would a none violent man come here to ask questions? Was he the leader? No, that couldn't be right. If what the wizard said was true and there were people outside, the leader must be the one who sent him here.

"Are you going to make us leave?" Bellatrix asked, faking a sad voice.

"I don't think even you, Lestrange, can take so many wizards at once"

The moment his words left his lips, a set of emotions appeared in Bellatrix from a half-formed snarl on her face to a sadistic smile, her eyes sparkle with malicious glee.

_'Oh, dear…' _Hermione realized he made a huge mistake. The man had just challenged the dark witch.

"Then I better start with you!" The woman kicked his back with her feet, digging the sharp heel on his back. "Crucio!"

A deafening cry of pain followed. The veins of his neck and face rapidly protruded from his white skin. He rolled in a fetal position; feet kicking at nothing. As if moving them would somehow lessen the excruciating pain coursing through his veins. His body contorted and convulsed in such an inhuman way. Nails scratched the floorboards.

This was the first time Hermione saw Bellatrix torturing someone; it was intimidating. She held the Cruciatus curse effortlessly, made it seem as it didn't drain her magic at all.

As Hermione saw it, Cruciatus and Patronus spell were two different sides of the same coin. They have the same principles but completely different outcomes.

She recalled the first she tried to cast it, _'You have to mean it'_ Voldemort told her. _'You need to feel the hate inside you, the desire to cause pain. For them to hurt and suffer' _That time it required so much magic from her to successfully cast it, even more, to hold it for less than 10 seconds.

And here Bellatrix was casting it without even a drop of sweat over her forehead; she looked able to keep this up for as long as she wanted to.

"Who do think you are?! Bloody filth!" Even though the cruel smile faded, the glee in her eyes never faltered. She was enjoying this too much. "Crucio!" She didn't last even 10 seconds before casting the curse again.

Hermione kept watching the wailing sack of flesh convulsing on the floor. It was moments like this, where she could attest to herself that the numbness in her body proved something fundamentally broken. It all happened the day Dumbledore betrayed her. She felt nothing at the scene. Nor pleasure neither disgust, just complete indifference at the suffering of a seemingly innocent man.

_'Nobody is innocent. He could have minded his own business, but then he chose to interfere.' _

This man, Hermione observed, seemed too soft to be here, by criminal standards at least. He said he had other people waiting outside, people like him and perhaps more dangerous, if that were true, they would soon come for him and then what? Bellatrix was making things worse by allowing her ill-temper control her.

_'Wait…These people are watchful of who gets in or out.' _The girl opened her eyes in realization

"Bellatrix, wait!" Hermione said, but the woman was lost in her own world. "Bellatrix, stop!"

Hermione walked towards the woman; tar-like eyes remained glued to the whimpering man, not acknowledging the upcoming presence. Not thinking twice, the reached for Bellatrix's hand. As soon as her fingers made contact with the pale skin, a jolt of energy coursed all across her body. It felt like static running from her arm to the fingers of her feet and the top of her head. A magical buzz, pleasurable as it was terrifying. Hermione had read this could happen; she chose not to believe it. The description itself didn't hold a candle to the actual experience. Her primal instincts demanded her to revel in the sensation, to let herself be overwhelmed by this magical hum.

Everything in her body screamed her for it.

_'No.'_

Except for her logical mind.

_'Never!'_

She willed herself to remove her hand, severing the invasive presence in her body.

Hermione didn't have time to decipher Bellatrix's reaction before a furious look took shape in her eyes. She definitely got her attention.

"What?! Mudblood?! What?!"

Schooling her feelings over what just happened, and ignoring that the woman's outburst, the brunette calmly said: "He knows what happens in this town."

Realization dawned on the older witch's face. Her face turned towards the whimpering man on the floor. She reached down for him, took a fist of his hair, violently yanking it for him to fully face her. "Well, well, we might need you alive after all!" She said it as if the man had won some sort of reward.

"We are looking for a man, white-haired, very tall. He likes wearing furs. Blue-eyed. Always looks in a bad mood. Rings a bell?" Bellatrix asked.

"What do you want with him?" the man murmured, barely able to articulate.

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. Either this old man was stupid or he was buying time "Are you really willing to risk torture again by asking stupid questions? Just bloody answer it."

He paused for a few seconds. "I have rarely seen him; I don't know where he lives."

The girl quickly took out the map and unrolled it in front of him, while Bellatrix violently grabbed his head with both hands and force him to look at it.

"Take a good guess." Hissed Bellatrix next to his ear.


	7. Chapter 7

Reclined on the wall, Hermione silently watched with curious eyes the unfolding scene.

Mr. H. looked relaxed and well-adjusted, his hair wasn't messy anymore and his clothes were clean. Just like when he arrived. The only give away of their earlier altercation was the involuntary twitching of his fingers and probably the scars on his body. That wasn't visible at the moment. The man smiled at Bellatrix, nodding effusively, confirming that he understood.

The dark witch gave him precise instructions on how to act and what to say once he left. He nodded once more right after Bellatrix gave him two small slaps on his left cheek, then he walked away.

"How long will it last?" The girl asked while nibbling a piece of dried meat taken earlier from her satchel.

On contrary to her counterpart, that seemed in a better mood, Hermione was a little anxious about what it meant to let the man leave.

"Hm, I don't know," Bellatrix responded indifferently, "Why? Is the baby mudblood scared?"

The girl bit harder the piece of meat than it was necessary; the woman didn't waste any opportunity to taunt her or mock her. "Why didn't you just obliviate him?"

A deriding sound came from her throat, black eyes looked her up and down in a depreciating manner. "I know your brain is really itsy-bitsy small to understand simple things, but do you really have to ask?"

She mauled the question over; it took her a second of silent contemplation to reach the answer. _'Because if there are people waiting for him, they'll know if he had been obliviated'_ Hermione wanted to kick herself for not thinking before asking.

For someone who showed to be very skeptical of the man's threat and easily to be overtaken by her murderous impulses, Bellatrix was still able to get the best possible outcome out of her little shitshow. And she had her fun along the way.

She pushed the entire piece of meat in her mouth, tasting the sweet taste on her palate. _'Probably Bellatrix never intended to kill the man.' _If that were to be true, then the woman was more cunning than she expected. Hermione had anticipated being surrounded by wanted criminals right now, considering how quickly things went south moments ago. This plan of Bellatrix taking the 'stealthy' route was something she didn't foresee.

"No, I guess not." She crossed her arms, feeling very defensive.

Her worry stemmed from the fact that they couldn't afford to attract more unnecessary attention. There was the probability that another confrontation like this could tip off Karkaroff. Besides that, Hermione didn't want to, if it came to it, fight her way towards the man all because they antagonized more wizards along the way.

She took a glance outside the window. The last rays of light were rapidly dimming in the sky; nightfall was coming very soon. To complicate the matter, it was heavily raining.

Under the dark mantle of the night, they would start to sweep the area. The girl hoped that tonight they would finish the job as it was becoming hard to stay here much longer. Her eyes flickered towards her counterpart. She needed to be alone. Too much of Bellatrix's company was pernicious for her physical and mental health. Literally.

"We will leave as soon as its fully dark outside." Bellatrix stating the obvious, hastily putting on her dark cloak. She turned her back at the girl "Guard the door. Kill everyone who dares to cross it. Or not, depends on you."

"Wait, what?!" Hermione asked, suddenly aware of the woman's intentions. "Where are you going?"

The Death Eater didn't bother to reply, immediately she disapparated.

Where? Only Merlin knows.

"Bloody hell…" Muttered to herself. "Mad witch…"

Her shoulders sagged, groaning at the accumulated tension in her shoulders. At least, now that she was alone there was no need to keep with the stoic façade. Being with that woman was like walking barefooted over broken glass.

Hermione reached for one of the numbing potions inside her satchel. It was a blue vial that almost fitted on the palm of her hand. No matter where she went, or for how long, she always made sure to carry enough of these vials with her. She did a quick metal note to brew a new batch once she returned to the mansion.

She drank it all in one go, grimacing at the sour taste running through her throat.

The effects were immediate; the sensation was like a soft towel cleaning away the grime from her chest and mind. It felt great just to numb the constant 'tugging' in her chest and the horrible yearning; she felt more like herself.

Sooner or later she had to interact with Bellatrix, Hermione knew this the moment she agreed to join Voldemort. Hence, she read and prepared mentally for it. Read about her imprint, which was practically useless due to the lack of information. And read about Bellatrix too, to know her, to see if she could understand her. However, she realized that in practice it helped next to nothing.

The girl moved around the room aimlessly, letting her inner worries to branch out. Was it her, or the imprint symptoms expanded in these few weeks? The new first thing to appear was the woman scent, it was intense, lovely. A combination she had never smelled before. That happened a week ago. Today touching the dark witch had done something to her. She felt weird but good. It was hard to describe it at this early stage.

_'What all this means? Shall I make the potion stronger or drink a higher dose? With one vial I'm still able to smell her, what if I drink two?' _

She really didn't know. What if the potion only lessened her physical symptoms but not these new ones? That could open a new set of complications for her. It was imperative to avoid any contact with the woman. No matter how good it felt, how completed she felt for that fraction of a second. Her wolf wasn't in control, she was.

_'Bellatrix didn't seem to respond in the same way I did.'_

She clenched her jaw thinking the possibilities of the Death Eater actually did sense something and suddenly found herself interested in the bizarre phenomenon. Beyond doubt, Bellatrix would confront her. If she were to attempt ignorance, there was a chance that the woman could pass her lie. The truth wasn't an option. Her stomach churned at the ridiculous idea. _'It would be like rendering myself at the whims of a child.'_ Lie. She had to lie until her tongue fell off or the lie became truth. Whichever happened to be first. 

A sour taste manifested on the girl's mouth. _That_ was another issue. Just to what extend Bellatrix could have power over her? She didn't like to think about it. The mere thought disgusted her. One thing for certain was that it wouldn't be pleasurable.

_'And what if Snape were to tell her?'_ For a few seconds, she chewed the idea before swallowing it whole. The professor had much more to lose than her. The way Hermione saw it, she had more power over him, that he over her. Even if she couldn't prove his lies like he sharply stated, it was simple to stir the idea on Voldemort's mind. Shaking his doubts about his follower's loyalty was enough to slowly crumble the relationship, the girl esteemed.

The girl's eyes unlocked from the invisible point in the wall and turned to the window; it was fully dark now.

_'Where the hell is that woman?' _Anxiety stirred under her tensed face.

What if the Imperius curse didn't last long and the man came back with reinforcements? There was no way she could take all of them, much less without attracting the Muggle's attention and by consequence the Auror's attention.

Hermione took a sharp breath; she felt her stomach dropped to the floor. One specific idea made its presence in the front of her head.

Would Bellatrix intentionally remove her spell and then lead them towards Hermione's position? Under the motivation to spite her or to find some sort of sick amusement. Somehow it didn't sound so illogical.

What were the chances that could happen?

_'That fucking bitch' _A deep scowl formed on her face. She was going to kill her, damning the imprint and everything else. Her brain ran at full speed with all the things she could do to the witch. She would burn her to a crisp and then use her ashes as…

Bellatrix apparated a second later with a soft 'pop.' A clear example of Bellatrix's magical abilities, and a remainder for Hermione to work out on her apparition, the noise she made every time probably could be heard by everyone in the vicinity.

Two brooms in hand, Bellatrix pushed one onto the girl's chest; she must have seen something on her face because the dark witch laughed at her. "You thought I've left you, didn't you?" The woman craned her neck forward and sneered. "Not going to lie. It crossed my mind."

Being caught off guard, Hermione tried to recover her dignity by sounding disinterested "And why didn't you?"

Bellatrix shrugged noncommittally. "Because I think you'll do good as a human shield; in case I need one."

The girl just kept looking at her, afraid that if she rolled her eyes one more time, it would probably pop out of their sockets.

Hermione grabbed the broom with the wrong hand.

"You know how to fly do you?" A dark slim eyebrow rose inquisitively.

"O-of course." Replied the girl sounding not so confident. The truth was, that she hated flying because she wasn't so good at it. Something that the woman in front of her, didn't need to know.

"Oh, what fun…" The woman drawled as she opened the main door.

"Where did you get the brooms?" The girl asked, risking an insulting remark.

"We always have hidden stashes close to the safe houses." She said tossing her dark curls over her shoulder. "Move it mudblood, there is no time."

Outside the streets were empty, not a single soul in sight. Small glimpses of light filtered from the nearby houses through the cracks and rotten wood. Smoke came out from some chimneys; the temperature had dropped considerably. Although the rain had lessened its intensity and visibility had improved, it would still prove to be an obstacle for their search. Hermione looked around one last time just before taking off, making sure nobody was watching them.

They levitated in the air; raised themselves among the houses. Bellatrix didn't wait for Hermione as she speeded up ahead, leaving the inexperienced girl behind. Hermione quickly followed after her, trying to catch up.

The broom coursed through the rain at high speed. Her hood quickly fell off from her head, the strong winds lifted her cloak and the knot that kept it in place pulled backward from her neck, making it uncomfortable. The drops felt like tiny bits of gravel hitting on her face and hands. While it didn't hurt, it was annoying, it made hard to keep a clear sight of where she was going.

Despite all her complaints, the experience of soaring at full speed, the feeling of the chilly wind flipping her hair, and filtering through her clothes was exciting as it was refreshing. She took a deep breath, enjoying the cold air filling her lungs.

Just for a few seconds, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

_'Now I understand why Harry loves this'_ Nostalgia stirred in her chest; she regretted the moment she thought about her friend. She didn't want to think about all the implications that it came with join Voldemort's ranks. All this time Hermione had barely spared any thought about Ron and Harry, what would they say if they were to know? Her hands gripped the stick, knuckles turned white. She shook her head, dissipating the somber thoughts that crowded her mind.

Bellatrix abruptly descended altitude; the brunette tailed close behind her. Her boots almost came in contact with the treetops. Filled with adrenaline, the usual soft thump of her heart became a sonorous drum in her ribcage.

Flying too low was very dangerous as they could miscalculate the height of the tree and get hit by it, yet Bellatrix moved skillfully evading branches left and right, the brunette could barely see her. Darkness and rain added several layers of danger. Their only source of light was the constant thunders illuminating the horizon

With much effort the brunette could hardly keep up with the flying pace of the woman, it was like she had eyes to see in the dark. Still, if Bellatrix was expecting to make her look bad, she had another thing coming. The girl was rusty on her flying skills, but she was a very fast learner.

They arrived at a small lake, which connected to a river crossing along the entire forest. According to the information, all they needed to do was to follow the river upstream. A set of lightings rumbled in the sky; blinking shadows came from every direction. That second of light allowed Hermione to notice that most of the trees were dead in this area. The woman descended a little more, nearly touching the water with her feet as she followed the stream. Swiftly evading any obstacle in her way and cutting branches with her wand.

The girl heard the loud cackle, surely incited by her own struggling to keep up with the agile witch as she was almost hit multiples times by tree's branches

Bellatrix's dark shadow quickly shot upwards; the brunette followed the vexing woman. They were rising almost vertically up to the sky, flashing after flashing of blue light brightening the clouds, it was beautiful as it as was dangerous. She held her broom with an iron grip, eyes fixed in the shadow in front and not on the terrifying bolts of lightning.

The woman stopped when they reached the lower clouds; equally dark eyes surveyed this side of the forest. She extended her hand towards the brunette, silently asking for the map.

"Are we going to fully trust what the man said?" Hermione asked while providing light to Bellatrix.

The dark witch studied the map for a brief minute, then she scowled at the girl. "Do you have a better idea? No? Then shut up" And pushed the map onto the girl's chest. "Turn off your bloody light!" She hissed.

"We are here." She said, looking down, waiting for another thunder. "There!" Her eyes turned frantic. Hermione followed the woman's finger yet didn't see anything.

Bellatrix headed towards the mountain skirts with the brunette tailing close. What the sky lighted up again, Hermione saw a cottage with a small clearing in front. A tiny light originated in the middle of the empty spot. Against rain and wind, she narrowed her eyes, trying to distinguish what it was. The tiny light was growing by the second, and suddenly it wasn't just one, but tinier ones followed.

"Move!" Bellatrix yelled, moving swiftly to the one side and under.

Without waiting to see what those lights were, Hermione mimicked the dark witch's motion. In a heartbeat, fireballs crossed right over their heads.

Both witches descended over the forest, then landed 50 meters far from the clearing, immediately using the trees as cover.

"Come here! You fucking cowards!" A deep guttural voice growled at them. He started shooting fireballs randomly. Good thing for them that his aim was far for their actual position

Not wasting the opportunity, Bellatrix took the chance and quickly advanced towards him; Hermione trailed close behind her, casting a shield in case a rouge spell happened to come their way.

Both witches came out to the clearing, Karkaroff pointed his wand at them yet didn't do anything else. A source of a bright light orb placed on top of them. Whether Bellatrix or Karkaroff cast it, Hermione didn't know.

"Igor, long no see my friend!" The dark witch displayed a cruel smile; her high-pitched voice said how excited she was to be here. "You look…I wish I could say well, but you don't." She barked a laugh. "You look as a Dementor gave you a kiss but gave up half-way."

Confident eyes shined under the white light. "For the Dark Lord to have sent Bellatrix Lestrange herself to kill me, I must be honored." Said the man with a thick Russian accent, disdain laced into his tone.

Bellatrix was right. For what little the girl could see from his face, the man looked like he had been barely surviving. His face was pale, his beard was full white now. He looked thinner, dark circles under his eyes and slight twitch in his left eye; his appearance overall seemed emaciated.

His eyes drifted to the brunette.

"And you brought a friend with you?" He jeered. "You must be losing your touch if the Lord thinks you need support."

Lightings roared nearby; blinding light illuminated every corner with several flashes.

He squinted at her. "I know you…" His expression turned to surprise. "You are potter's whore. A mudblood? …But, how?" Karkaroff turned to Bellatrix expectantly, waiting for an explanation that wasn't coming.

_'Potter's whore?'_ Something hot settled in Hermione's gut. Sneering at him, the girl decided to regale him with an explanation. "That's little concern of yours, Karkaroff. Considering that you are about to die."

A throaty laugh erupted from the bearded man. "I don't think so, mudblood." Karkaroff dispelled the orb leaving the three mages in the dark. The darkness didn't last long, though. Before they could react to a possible attack, more than a dozen lights started to shine a few meters from the perineal sight of both witches.

The orbs began to enclose, Hermione watched every face turning visible under the lights. Each light, one caster.

What Hermione assumed that it was her light earlier in the sky what had tipped Karkaroff off, happened to be utterly wrong. The man had been waiting for them.

Brown eyes hardened, thinking of the only feasible explanation. "I thought your Imperius lasted longer." The brunette seethed under her breath.

"It does!" Bellatrix bristled, for a second looking confused as the girl did.

"I knew the man was Imperiused the moment you sent him my way." A tall man broke in, his most prominent features was a large beard and a very curved nose. He sauntered towards the witches; too much confidence in his steps. Hermione assumed he was the leader of the group. "Mr. H would never smile willingly. He has always been a bitter old man. You can imagine, how strange was to see him come back and smile more than twice in one sentence."

Hermione shot a dirty look at Bellatrix, who completely ignore her.

_'How the bleeding hell did we end up like this?!' _Hermione's increasing anger made her want to incinerate the woman next to her and then burn the whole fucking forest because damned all this! The mission was: Ask for Karkaroff, trace Karkaroff, kill Karkaroff. Simple! But now she had to face fifteen people more. _This_, Hermione decided in the spot, that all _this_ was Bellatrix's bloody fault. Thanks to her childish attitude and her mood swings they were here, facing more unnecessary problems. The woman wouldn't work with the brunette, wouldn't plan, neither share basic information. They could have avoided all this if only Bellatrix would have cooperated.

"After I ended the spell, he told us what you were looking for or rather who. We came as soon as we could and share your despicable intentions with Mr. Karkaroff here."

"And what do you get by helping him?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes hadn't blinked away from Karkaroff's frame, who was retracting out of the circle of wizards, with a smug smile on his face.

"Mr. Karkaroff is fine man, we do anything for the members of our community. We protect ours; you see?" An annoying smirk manifested on his sunburned face. "Of course, the promise of gold after killing you stupid cows serves as an incentive too."

Bellatrix laughed straight to his face and then turned to Karkaroff "I brought one extra to play, and you brought what 15 more?" She tutted "You must be truly afraid."

The dark witch pulled out her wand, everyone else in reflex aimed theirs at the two witches.

"Stick your back to my back, girl." The woman muttered only for Hermione's ears.

The serious tone in the woman's voice made the brunette, even as she stewed in her anger, did what was told.

The dark witch aimed the wand to the ground. The air itself hissed, Hermione saw her breath vaporize; the next second the soil made a cracking sound and snapped with an explosion of thick frost. The attack, fast and unforeseeable covered a large radius. The cold wind settled. A few wizards stood frozen from the waist down, a sheen of ice glittered around them. The leader, who happened to be closer to the witches, was fully frozen; the man was caught in the middle of a scream.

Bellatrix, giving them no time to react, leached an explosive spell at the frozen body, blowing him up into small pieces.

"Confrigo!" Hermione followed the example and shoot at the frozen legs of another wizard, destroying his limps as if they were made of glass. The man couldn't do anything more than to cry in pain at the loss of his two limbs.

Two down, thirteen more to go…

Curses and hexes were shot from every direction at them. The brunette agilely cast a protection spell for both of them, while Bellatrix blew into tiny pieces the last three wizards that were trapped in ice like they were mere target practices.

Confident that her protection spell could last more than a few seconds without her wand, Hermione's attention focused on the witch in front of her, who had been stubbornly trying to break past her defenses.

With her free hand, she held the shield, while her wand drew dangerous patterns in the air. "Serpensortia!" A snake was shot in the air, biting the face of the witch. Whatever spell the witch was about to cast, died in her mouth. Instead, a shrilling sound escaped from her throat.

Hermione drew circles with her wand, commanding the snake to rapidly curl on the woman's neck. The witch tried to pull off the snake with both hands, throwing her wand in process, desperately gasping for air. Hermione made a slashing move, that alighted the snake on fire, burning the woman's head in the process. The witch twisted and shrieked in pain, right before dying.

Bellatrix pointed her wand at a nearby tree, with a thrust of her arm, a jet of blue fire severed the wood. The entire tree swayed, then crashed down on top of two wizards who saw the falling tree too late. The sound they made as they were crushed by the large log was muffled by the thunders and probably by the dark witch's cackle.

The shield fell down, Hermione was about to cast another one, but Bellatrix moved out of reach. Implying that she didn't need the girls to help anymore.

Hermione advance towards two wizards, her hand moved fast, swiftly repelling their curses. "Incisura!" She shot at the shorter man, an easy target. He was clumsy, looking like he could barely hold his ground in a fight. A slashing curse cut through his chest, killing him instantly.

The second man decided to make a run and escape with his life intact. But Hermione, full of adrenaline and anger, didn't let him. She cast a Carpe Retractum spell to grab him by the ankle and pull him towards her.

"Please, no!" He begged with terror in his eyes.

She aimed her wand at him. "You made your choice." Hermione didn't hesitate to sever his neck.

She turned around to see Bellatrix fighting with the last five remaining wizards, wait no, four remaining wizards. For the next few moments, the girl's eyes set only on Bellatrix, finding the Death Eater's abilities enthralling; her body moved at incredible speed, she dodged and redirected spells as if she could do it with her eyes closed. Her spells hard and aggressive, teasing when she wished to, and deathly the next second. She carefully observed the footing of the woman, feet moved with the coordination of a professional dancer, or skater. She slid over dirt like a polished floor, giving her all the advantage over her opponents as they struggle to keep their feet firmly on the ground due to slippery mud.

Her opponents got their shield shattered with one of her many vicious spells. To the observer, this was a one-sided fight. It was evident that Bellatrix was just playing with her food.

Out of nowhere, a slicing hex grazed Hermione's left side; a little bit more to the right and it would have been a full hit to her chest. She rapidly searched for the caster. Furious eyes set on Karkaroff, reading himself to launch another spell at her. The brunette cast a protection spell, ready to brace for the collision. A strong wave of energy broke her guard, the force of the impact threw her on the air, landing a few meters far from her original position.

Hermione hastily stood up. A ripple of pain made its presence known on her side; she reached for the injury. Her fingers grazed the wound, making the brunette grit her teeth at the stinging pain. Unable to sense or see how series the wound was, Hermione could only hope the cut wasn't so deep.

"Damn it!" She rose her wand to brace herself, Karkaroff threw her off again like a rag doll.

This time, the young witch managed to suspend herself on the air avoiding the awful fall on the soil.

Yanking the heavy cloak from her neck, she threw it behind her feet. Her eyes filled with anger at the mockery he was making out of her, the brunette retaliated with all she had, advancing towards him casting curse after curse, all while ignoring the pain in her side and the possible risk of the wound opening even more.

Karkaroff deflected her fire spells with a simple wave of his wand, redirecting them towards the forest, to which Hermione responded by increasing the strength of her attacks. More incisive, stronger balls of fire followed by slashing curses.

The wizard just continued repelling her attacks without stuttering, but nor did he had the chance to retaliate and if he dared to do it, it could make an opening wide enough for the girl to hit. The brunette needed to frustrate him. So, she continued throwing spells relentlessly, waiting for the opportunity of a direct strike.

It was a dance typical of duels, wait for the other one to give in. Her feet moved with not so elegant synchronization, but combined by the nimble movements of her wrist was enough to fuel the strength in her casting.

"Ignis Fulgur!" A flame, shaped like a thunder, headed towards Karkaroff, he immediately responded by erecting a shield. The deathly flames redirected to the sides, this occasion, the flames started to burn the dead trees nearby.

"Give up, stupid girl." Said Karkaroff as he repelled another spell from her. "You are no match for me!" The man smirked, clearly seeing her labored breathing. His display of arrogance and confidence caused a growl to erupt from the girl.

Taking a deep breath and concentrating all her energy on her right hand, Hermione's wrist twisted and turned "Bombarda Maxima!" It was a powerful one. The strength of the spell sunk the mud making a half tunnel on the soil and the noise it made was almost deafening. With one more flick of her wand, she proceeded to cast her flame-like thunder spell. Orange veins of fire flowed in the air blasting all over his frame. Seeing that it was a full strike, she became confident that it'll be enough to crash his barriers and luckily disintegrate him in the process.

What little smile of satisfaction had on her face, quickly fell shaping into incredulity.

She failed.

The man seemed barely affected by her attack.

_'Impossible. How?!'_ Hermione asked, feeling stupefied by the raw power of the man. She acknowledged that Karkaroff was a good wizard, but coming out unscathed from her spell.

She would hardly believe that even Bellatrix could be able to hold her ground after that. She had greatly underestimated the man, and in the intent of subduing him, she tired herself needlessly, using more brute force instead of smarts.

Still, a question resonated in the girl's head: How a seemingly weakened man was able to endure this much?

After that, the brunette could barely keep up with the same rhythm that she began with; her limbs had started to burn. While the attacks kept going, they became slightly dulled, leaving intervals between spells.

Karkaroff saw the opening he had been waiting for…

"Avada Kedavra!" The wizard roared; green lighting generated from his wand, heading towards her. Being a quick thinker, the girl managed to evade it by stepping sideways, hiding her body behind a tree.

He wasn't wasting his time. Unlike Bellatrix, he didn't play with his opponents. Karkaroff was casting to kill!

The brunette was heavily breathing, beads of sweat ran down her face, muscles ached and her wound made everything worse. She took a peek to her right, expecting to see Karkaroff getting closer.

When she realized what was happening, the man already had levitated her in the air, launching her across the clearing. With the impact, she dropped her wand as her body involuntarily rolled on the soil several times before coming to a full stop. Hermione felt slightly disoriented for a few seconds, her head was dizzy and her vision blurred. The bright lights in front of her didn't help either. Blinking away the blurry vision, she noticed that it wasn't lights but the flames rapidly extending to other trees.

Dread came in full force when she became aware that her wand was missing. Desperate brown scanned the terrain.

"Time to die, little whore." Said the wizard, taking long steps towards her. Hermione did the only thing available; she ran.

He aimed at the girl ready to cast the Death Curse once more when a sudden blast of fire hit his shoulder blade, making him growl in pain. He turned around to see Bellatrix with a feral smile.

"Isn't a little too young for you, Igor. How about you play with me instead?" The dark witch was surrounded by the brutally murdered wizards; right under the black leather heel there was an incomplete body, she was stepping on it as when a hunter did when they posed for a photograph next to the hunt.

The woman sauntered towards him, her feet kicking severed heads and limbs on her way.

"When I kill you, nobody will mess with me. Everyone will know that I defeated the Lord's right hand." His voice laced with poison and anticipation for what was next to come.

"Oh, Igor. You were always looking to be more than the dirt under my heels." The tip of her tongue caressed her upper lip as if she could literally taste this moment in the air. "I can't wait to rip you apart, you filthy traitor!" She hissed with the poison of a black mamba.

Bellatrix threw the first spell, the red flames warped around the wizard's protection charm, still managed to push him backward. With his shield almost cracked, the witch plunged her wand to cast a bolt of blue lightning, buzzing and cracking in the space between them. Making a sonorous peal of thunder, Karkaroff's protection was decimated after it hit. The wave of magic propelled him backward; the witch launched a disarming spell. One attack that Karkaroff quickly deflected.

"You have improved, Igor. Most people would be shitting their trousers by now."

He chuckled under his breath "Oh, you have no idea. Allow me to give you a demonstration."

His wand aimed at a nearby lush tree. The right arm was fully stretched; his brow knitted in concentration. Bellatrix looked at him, half-amused and half-intrigued by whatever he was doing. A moment later, streams of green light manifested around the tree, in the air, and on the soil, they followed one single target: Karkaroff's wand. As the green specks of light were all captured by his wand, the tree quickly started to decay. It looked like he was absorbing the life of the tree. From the top to the roots.

_'Unbelievable… What kind of spell is this?' _Hermione wondered, mesmerized by the spectacle of lights. It was like fireflies that came out of nowhere and started to fully glow. But this wasn't fireflies. No, it was magic. _'It is life itself. He is been absorbing the life of the forest.' _

"Nice parlor trick," Bellatrix commented, sounding bored by the lights display.

"Is more than a parlor trick, Lestrange." Assured the man. Light filtered between his fingers; its origin came from the grip of his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

With a quick turn of her body, Bellatrix dodged the mortal curse. "Oh, straight to business then. You are not fun" Her semblance turned darker and menacing, the mirth in her eyes had vanished.

Bellatrix lowered her wand, her eyes struck to Karkaroff. The air hissed again, and the water on the ground instantaneously froze. In one blink, sharp stalactites emerged from the iced ground, like giant knifes ready to impale. Karkaroff swiftly around, evading the ice spikes. Bellatrix waved her wand, pointing at the floor and not the wizard. "Dance, dance! Karkaroff!" She barked.

"I don't think so, crazy bitch." He cast a circle of fire around him, melting the surrounding spikes.

They moved around one another, biding their chance to attack. Narrowed eyes looked for a mistake in the other's actions.

Karkaroff was the first to engage again, in less than one second, he positioned himself, one foot forward, pointing straight, and the other behind, pointing left. Bellatrix saw this clearly and knew what was coming.

"Avada Kedavra!" Her feet moved to the sides, as the curse passed by her.

Two Death Curses in a short period; Bellatrix was impressed. To cast the Death Curse demanded a large amount of energy and strength.

"Now you see? It provides me with more magic." Explained Karkaroff, seeing the expression in the woman's features. The dark witch bristled at the cocky smirk of the man.

He prepared again to shoot the killing curse. This time Bellatrix counter-attacked by pushing him out of balance, making a distraction long enough for her to run towards the woods.

"You are not getting out of here alive!" Said the man, following after the woman.

Bellatrix ran as fast she could, silently regretting her decision to wear high heels today. She looked over her shoulder, Karkaroff was approaching, his eyes blazed with cold rage "Not so arrogant now, fucking wench!" A tree exploded next to her, splinters scattered on her clothes and hair.

She kept running between the trees, full darkness no longer available as the rain was long gone and the fire kept spreading all over the bark and withered trees, illuminating their surroundings.

This was one of those rare times for the witch when she found herself at odds. Giving up her long-time fantasy to have her fun with the man, she turned around to return Karkaroff's attacks in kind. A lethal jet of light ran between the trees, illuminating its path with green.

However, it failed to hit its target who rolled on the floor, hastily crawling behind a large rock.

The witch cursed out loud.

Keeping her guard at every moment, she paid attention to any noise that could give her the exact position of the Ex-headmaster. The only sound was the crackling of wood being burned in the distance.

She circled the rock, charcoal eyes waiting expectantly for any sort of movement.

A rustle of leaves came from her right, rapidly, she twisted her body towards the sound probably originated. Another sound came from the left. She turned her head, but her wand kept pointing at her right.

Knowing exactly what game Karkaroff was playing, she waited.

A light rumble came from under her feet. Bellatrix stepped backward, searching for the reason. Right under her, one thick root grabbed her ankle and dragged her over the ground. She aimed at the root, but the quick erratic movements of the root didn't let her cast with precision. When she went for the second attempt, another root neutralized the woman's right hand and with it, her wand.

In no time, the rest of her two limps were immobilized as well. The roots raised her and suspended her in the air. She pulled and tugged trying to untie herself, but that only caused the roots to tighten further around her wrists and ankles, almost cutting any blood circulation.

Karkaroff walked out from his hiding spot, his steps deliberately slow-paced. Bellatrix saw that the casting had taken a toll on the man, he was breathing through his mouth and his face was dripping with sweat. He approached the woman till they were mere centimeters apart "The Dark Lord's Lieutenant. At my mercy." His breath smelled foul and putrid. He set his hand on the woman's neck "Oh how I dreamed to have you like this, Lestrange"

Bellatrix snarl turned more ferocious and menacing "Even now with your parlor tricks you have to attack from the shadows." Vile raised to her mouth at the disgusting sensation that was to feel Karkaroff's hands on her. "You have always been a bloody inbred coward." She spat on the man's face, smiling with glee seeing that she hit her target in the eye.

Her smile widened after watching how Karkaroff victorious smile fell, becoming increasingly enraged, he cleaned the spit from his face. His arm raised and with brute force, backhandedly slapped the woman.

"Be done with it, traitor. I'm getting bored" Said the dark witch, a line of blood running from her nose, the smile never faltered. Her eyes guarded a murderous glint, fury boiling under her unaffected mask.

"Oh no, I'm going to savor this moment. You are not going to die until morning comes." He pushed the tip of his wand under her jaw "You and I, are going to have so much fun" He dragged his wand slowly over her clavicle, his grey eyes followed the invisible lines that the wand painted on her skin.

Bellatrix was about to make a derisive comment but all of a sudden, she felt a very familiar pull inside her body, instantly ran through all then limps, and then, she disappeared. Leaving a very angry Karkaroff behind.

First thing Bellatrix saw after her apparition was the mudblood in front of her with the brooms in hand and the coin between the girl's fingers. The very same the Dark Lord gave the filth to summon her. Before she could scold the girl by asking her what took her so long.

Her attention took another turn as she observed the girl's clothes were full of mud even her hair and part of her face. The dark witch smiled, opening her mouth about to say something.

"If you are going to do a bloody joke about me being caked in mud, I swear I will kill you, Lestrange! Right where you fucking are!" Her fiery eyes held warning in them and the threat in her voice was almost tangible. Bellatrix closed her mouth and a glint, glint to what could only be described as approval crossed in the dark eyes.

"We need a plan. Karkaroff is a powerhouse" Said the girl looking at the woods, hoping that it would take him time to come back to the clearing, proving them with enough time to create a strategy.

Bellatrix aggressively snatched one of the brooms from the girl's hand, messy curls framed the enraged features of the witch. Maybe it was the dancing shadows, caused by the fire in the vicinity, but the dark witch seemed to have this maniacal look in her eyes that made Hermione swallow.

"You distract him, mudblood. He is mine!" Her voice was dangerously low. To Hermione's ears, it sounded more like a growl than anything else. The woman mounted her broom, ignoring the scowl from the brunette's face, and she flew away.

"That is not a plan!" Hermione yelled. "Stupid, stubborn witch!" She just extended the olive branch to the woman by trying to cooperate with her at that was how she repaid her.

Having not other option, the young witch followed after her.

It didn't take long for her to catch up with the dark witch, who was looking left to right searching for the wizard. The brunette looked down below and saw the green lights moving in front of them, gathering a few meters ahead.

"Don't let him absorb the tree's life!" She yelled at Bellatrix.

"I know!" The dark witch roared

"Then bloody stop him!" Hermione growled.

The older witch commenced launching her attacks, flying between the trees. Karkaroff halted the absorption process to protect himself. Taunts were long forgotten; the woman launched spell after spell, not wasting breath in anything else but to take down the target.

As she turned her broom to get a better angle, the wizard took the opportunity to get rid of the smaller danger first. Ventus came out of his wand, blowing with breaking force.

Pieces of branches and leaves raised by the strong wind blinded the girl momentarily. Unfit to maintain control of her the broom, she lost balance and fell onto meshed branches, subsequently hitting the ground.

Hermione stood as fast as possible, supporting her body on the tree nearby. Her legs felt like jelly, her throat was sore and dry, her eyes stung from the little dust inside her eyes, and above all that, her sides still hurt. Although she cast a quick Episkey on her injury earlier, it wasn't enough to lessen the pain. Which could only mean the spell was combined with an 'agony hex.' Karkaroff was a nasty bastard.

Bellatrix kept engaging him in battle, shooting curses at him, and repelling when necessary. Exhaustion was already present in the woman's face, yet her speed and strength didn't falter.  
A sharp projectile broke past Karkaroff's defense, but the nasty spell required too much energy from her. The balance tipped on Karkaroff's favor. When he shot an Expulso, Bellatrix wasn't quick to evade a safe distance; the shockwave threw her off her broom.

Brown eyes caught the exact moment when the woman collided with a tree, hurting her head at the impact. Something primal awakened in her body, Hermione her hands shook as a deep rage engulfed her. It wasn't hers, that was the last thought she had before the emotion took control of her body and thoughts.

"Damn you!" She growled, without anything else in her mind but to destroy the man who hurt her mate, Hermione cast a Bombarda Maxima. A tired Karkaroff was narrowly able to cast a Protego; the sonorous explosion cracked his defenses. Hermione threw into the air, sending his body rolling onto the ground, just like he did with her.

Still blinded by anger, she didn't waste time to attack the man one more time. Gathering her last resources of magic, a snake was shot at his face; her aim never been more precise than now. She hastily did circles with her wand commanding the reptile to encircle his neck with all the intention to crush his trachea.

Hermione saw the exact moment when the guarded anger on the man's features turned into a dislocated look. Pleasure stirred in her, despite the snarl on her face. She understood what this meant. Behind his desperation, there was fear. Fear to die. Which was exactly what was about to happen.

Karkaroff was choking, the color of his face was quickly changing from red to purple. What was desperation, quickly grew into placidity. The man closed his eyes, his lips moved in silent murmurs. Using a non-verbal spell, the snake was dispelled from his neck.

What was supposed to be a worried-looking girl watching him be free again, he saw a different reaction. The brunette had lowered her wand. Her whole-body language reflected some degree of relief. When he understood what was happening, it was too late.

"Acri Flamma." A velvety female voice spoke behind him. His eyes opened in terror as a boiling sensation manifested in his gut, quickly expanding all inside his thorax. "Oh, you have no idea how much I love seeing you suffer, Igor."

A wailing sound escape from his throat, his knees gave up, falling limp on the ground. He started off to cough smoke uncontrollably, a moment later the smoke escaped from his ears and nostrils. His eyes connected with Hermione's, who watched the process with mixed feelings of anger at the man and some sort pity for him.

_'Acri Flamma, the spell for internal combustion.'_

His eyes were begging for what she assumed was a quick death; steam started to come out from the pores of his skin and small patches of flames started to burn over his shoulders.

_'His organs and soon his whole body will slowly burn. What terrible way to go.'_

Bellatrix only had eyes for the man that kept screaming in pain; her features reflected mad pleasure at his suffering. The brunette was half expecting the woman to start dancing over or around the body. Instead, she chose to Crucio him.

_'What an overkill.'_

Hermione didn't share the same taste of entertainment as the dark witch did, ignoring her vicious display of victory, she decided to go back to the clearing.

No matter what happened earlier, about how angry she felt at seeing the witch being hurt. That wasn't her, the brunette rationalized. It was her inner wolf, _not her_, the one who tried to protect the annoying woman.

There was a cluster of contradicting emotions in her chest after all _that_ happened. But the one that stuck with her faithfully was that she couldn't stand the sight of Bellatrix anymore. She was still furious with the witch for how things developed tonight. Everything that went wrong was partially her fault if not all.

Hermione might be a killer in her own eyes. A merciless person if the corpses she was passing by could say something about it. Nevertheless, she did what she had to do to survive. She needed to complete the task that was lay upon her. If she did good, Voldemort would be satisfied. If he was satisfied… Then, she was one step closer to achieve her goal.

However, Bellatrix fell in another category all on her own. There was this sort of madness in her eyes every time conflict was presented before her. To her, everything was a challenge to be overcome with violence. And yet she dueled like her emotions weren't controlling her movements and decisions. All her actions inside a duel were meticulously precise and incisive. It even portrayed certain elegance that only a pure-blood witch raised in a wealthy family knew how to.

_'Ugh, her arrogance even shows in the way she wields her wand.' _

Dispelling any related thoughts of the woman, Hermione focused on why she came back here. She had many questions that only Karkaroff could have been able to answer. The main question being, what was that spell he did. And how did it work? Trees interconnected with each other, that would explain why so many trees were randomly withered around the forest. _'He had been practicing it for a very long time. Well, used to.'_

There was the potentiality that, if wielded correctly, it could mean an unlimited source of magic. Just to imagine that the practitioner would never get tired after multiple casting of high tier, energy-consuming spells, the idea sent shivers to the girl, of the good ones.

The moment she saw it, she wanted it, no, she needed it, needed to know more. Magic like this could open many unknown doors towards new sources of magic. Powerful magic. Power begets more power.

And she definitely _needed_ that.

Her hand pushed the wooden door, the hinges creaked incessantly until it was fully opened. Hermione walked inside, casting a spell to fully illuminate the room. the cottage had expansion charms. The man wasn't living in shambles like she thought he did. The place seemed acceptable if anything. It had all the amenities to have a comfortable life in the middle of nowhere.

She passed by the dinner table. A small round table placed next to the kitchen utilities, on top of it, half-eaten venison meat lay next to a glass of Firewhiskey. They caught Karkaroff right when he was dinning.

Curious eyes inspected every visible corner. His bed wasn't made up, piles of unwashed clothes rested beside the bed. Her face crinkled at the foul smell. The walls were naked as well as much of the furniture, there wasn't any photographs or decorations.

Her eyes finally found what she was expecting to see, anxiety grew in her gut at the thought of what she might find. The desk was mostly empty, it only had a couple of parchments on top. All of them were blank, but the corners seemed worn-out. Strange.

She proceeded to inspect the drawers, one was full ink bottles and quills. The second one was filled with blank scrolls.

Strange.

The brunette approached the small bookcase situated in the corner. Holding a candle to illuminate the dimmed corner, she saw all the books were covered in black leather and just that. None of them had any title or a number, neither a mark to distinguish which was which. She withdrew one and opened it, the pages were white too, soon she grabbed one by one, avid hands opening books, only to find that all of them were empty.

Then it hit her. The books were charmed by a concealment spell.

The unmistakable sound of Bellatrix's heels made its presence known inside the lodge.

Ignoring the annoying woman Hermione summoned all her knowledge of what she knew of this kind of spell and specifically how to break them.

"What are you doing, mudblood?" If Hermione hasn't been absorbed in her own mind, she would have heard that Bellatrix's voice sounded relaxed, happy. Almost friendly towards her.

The Death Eater took a short-peek at the girl, watching her holding a book in her hand. "Figures. You should probably marry the books." Just like that, the woman retreated to another side other room.

A few seconds later, the sound of glass breaking on the floor and multiples objects falling out of place, resonated in the room. "Damn it, where is it?" The doors of cabinet and drawers being opened broke the girl's concentration. "There you are!" Said the woman happily. The girl heard the sound of liquid pouring inside of a glass.

Hermione 's wand moved over the book commencing to cast the first charm, hoping to reveal the words.

Nothing.

"I bet you are still a virgin, seeing that you love so much reading books," Bellatrix said out loud while she poured herself another drink. Hermione didn't need to see the woman to know she had a taunting smile on her lips. There was a rasping sound of a chair being dragged across the wooden floor, followed by the sound someone putting something heavy on the table.

Knowing that ignoring was the best route, Hermione focused again on what other dispelling charms could work. This concealment spell was sophisticated and complex, she was sure that the simplest charms would be useless against this kind of magic. _'It would be better to take all the books with me.'_

The candle she was using suddenly turned off. Exhaling tiredly, the brunette ran a hand truth her hair, growing annoyed with Bellatrix and her childish antics. With one flick of her wand, it was turn on again.

Not five seconds passed when it was turned off again.

Vexed, she turned to face at the dark witch. "Do you have to be such a bloody chi—" Her eyes opened wide. All sources of light in the room were off, except for the small light Bellatrix had conjured up.

Both heads looked up to the ceiling as rumbling sounds came from outside. Hermione focused on the sounds coming from the exterior, hoping to hear any indication of what was outside. The answer came sooner than she expected as the temperature in room started to drop dramatically, a piercing chill invaded her body, and in the next moment, her breathing started to condensate. Bellatrix looked at the girl and uttered with a hiss "The Portkey, now!"

Trembling hands reached for the satchel.

The dementors were here, which probably meant Aurors sent them first hoping to neutralize the threat. If that were the case, the Aurors would be watching from a safe distance, guarding the perimeter in case someone wanted to escape. It was a good thing they didn't need to run. If she could only find that bloody Portkey!

The door opened. Giving no time to react, two dark shadows even darker than the void itself entered in the room.

"Mudblood! Now!" Bellatrix ran towards Hermione.

"I got it" She offered it at the woman to hold the half of coin while she held the other half.

_'Just 10 seconds'_ She pressed the piece of metal between her thumb and her fingers as hard she could.

"Come on, come on!" Bellatrix's voice was tight.

Due to the noise of her own heart, she missed the trembling of the woman's voice.

The dementors flew towards the two witches. Having nowhere to run they remained in place. One managed to start leeching on Hermione, while the other approached at Bellatrix.

To Hermione, the first second felt like it was scratching the surface of all her happy memories absorbing every memory that was even close to bringing her comfort. Yet once it reached the second layer, a feeling of terror and agony gripped her body. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, trying to resist. Tears started to run through her cheeks and a jarring scream she didn't know she could muster escaped her throat...

After 3 seconds. Both witches vanished.


	8. Chapter 8

The Portkey successfully transported them to Malfoy's mansion. They arrived at one of the sitting rooms located on the first floor. The only sound audible in the room were the heavy gasps coming from both witches. Hermione had hardly acknowledged her new surroundings; her eyes were lost looking at nothing, and her fingers trembled lightly. Tides of panic continued crashing on her system. That was all she could feel or think of.

Bellatrix, who already had her fair share of encounters with Dementors, was faster to recover from their pervasive touch. Displaying collectedness on features, she turned to face the girl, who was cleaning the tears off from her cheeks.

Her upper lip raised. "What took you so long, girl?!" The dark witch pushed her by the shoulder to get her attention.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Hermione slapped the hand away as soon as the fingers came in contact with her clothes, as if the mere touch of the woman would burn her.

The haunted look was left behind; enraged brown eyes stared piercingly at the woman. "Fuck you, Bellatrix! This was all your fault!" She seethed; her chest felt like it was about to explode if she didn't talk. "What happened tonight could have been avoided if only you could get a handle of your volatile temper! Your bloody unwillingness to work together, to— to pool our resources! You led us to tonight's clusterfuck!" Her lips trembled with all the accumulated emotions. "Starting from the fact that you didn't warn me of the residents of that place. I could have taken a different approach if you have told me! Let's not even talk about how terrible the confrontation with Karkaroff went. You are bloody capricious and reckless! Like a damn child!"

Bellatrix didn't utter a single, neither did she attempt to do anything during the girl's rant. With arms crossed, a tilted head, and murderous black eyes, the dark witch let the girl finish her rant.

Until later, Hermione realized that Bellatrix allowed her to enter into a sense of security by no reacting to the girl's rant. Something that the Death Eater wanted to do for her strategy to work flawlessly.

In an impossibly fast motion, in one stride and with an arm extended, Bellatrix took a fist of brown hair behind the girl's head, then pulled violently the girl towards her body. A grunt of pain came from the aggressive yank at her hair.

Hermione didn't push back, neither did she intend to take her wand out the hostler. The older woman's expression said something close to _'don't even think about it.'_ No matter how much she wanted to, she didn't resist.

However, being in this position it didn't deter her from staring at the woman with defiance, connecting with the burning charcoal eyes. Strangely, as she kept staring, there were motes of darker grey over her iris. Clearly, the side effects of coming to contact with dementors.

_'__She was touched by dementors too.'_ Hermione assumed that she hadn't, considering that she didn't look scared in the slightest.

The woman drew nearer to the girl's ear. Sharp nails dug into the skin of her nape; soft black curls unintentionally caressed her cheek. The woman's natural scent invaded her nostrils once more, but this time it didn't taste sweet in her mouth, on the contrary, it was bitter and vinegary.

"Let me give you a little warning, mudblood" Her voice was husky, slow, and very threatening. The tip of a wand was digging on her right under her ribcage. "You won't talk to me like that ever again. I will kill you if you do. That. I promise." The grip on her neck turned tighter; a muffled whimper left her mouth. While the earlier touch felt something that could be described as soft magic mingling and dancing on her skin, this touch was very different. It gave her a prickling sensation all over the back of her head to her tail bone, like tiny needles penetrating her skin.

The woman's voice changed to a syrupy tone full of disdain "Now stupid filth, let me ask you something. If you didn't know about the village, did you ask if I knew the place? Did you ask me if I knew the informant? Did you ask for my advice?"

Brown eyes dropped to the ground for a short span.

"No, you didn't." To emphasize her words, Bellatrix turned to look at the girl in the eye. "Then don't moan at me about things not going the way you wanted them to go. Filthy mudblood."

Hermione didn't care at this point what might happen next; empowered by her lack of self-preservation, she glowered at the woman. "How?! How do you expect for me to ask you something when you are taunting me and calling me names all the time? Or straightforward ignoring me like what happened with Karkaroff"

A dry chuckle, one dark eyebrow curved questioningly. "Oh, did you want me to coddle you?" Then, she mockingly gasped, making a worried face, "Did I hurt your fee-fees?"

The face fell with grave intent, her chin raised slightly, "You are a mudblood. The dirt under my boot and nothing else. I will call you however I want."

"Well, this fucking mudblood saved your life!" Hermione said, baring her teeth, thinking at the moment Karkaroff's spell threw the woman from the broom.

Bellatrix's arrogance slowly drained from her face, turning sober and contemplative. "That you did." Her voice adopted a grave tone. Yet the grip on brown hair never wavered. "A now do you understand?" Her memory was different from Hermione's. If the brunette wouldn't have used the coin to let her escape from the root's grip, she would be probably dead. "Why are you not on the floor dead? Why I decided to oversee your little lack of judgment?"

The woman took one last look. "Do not forget your place, filth" She released her, right after she pushed her by the shoulders.

Hermione lost her balance falling on the floor, bending her torso in discomfort. The impact of the fall made her wound pulse in pain. "Fuck you, Lestrange." Her fingers itched to take out her wand, but the thought and intention only stayed at that. She couldn't do it, especially not when Bellatrix stood there looking down on her, silently telling her to give her an excuse to hurt her.

The large door of the study slid open, uprooting the atmosphere between both witches. Narcissa entered the room in what appeared to be sleeping clothes.

The thick tension that had been fermenting in the room, was diminished by the inquisitive presence of the blonde. "Everything alright?" She asked, looking at her sister. Her face didn't reflect any emotion; the question seemed to come out of courtesy more than any sort of concern. "The charms activated in the room." The blonde explained.

"Bloody wonderful." Reply Bellatrix, her eyes jumped from the girl to her sister.

Her blue eyes moved from her sarcastic sister towards the girl, who covered her left side with her hand; her hair disheveled and clothes awfully dirty. Much worse than the older sister's appearance.

Narcissa stepped forward into the room "You look hungry, Bellatrix. I'll ask the elf to prepare you something." Her voice was emotionless, not even bothering to match her words with what she said. "Or perhaps you'll like a bath first?"

Bellatrix released a humorless chuckle. "No need, I'll go myself." She spared one last look to the pitiful girl and left the room.

Narcissa kept looking at the girl with a stoic demeanor.

Brown eyes dropped a little, her jaw clenched thinking that probably the woman was just silently relishing in her disgrace. Unwilling to become the entertainment of another pure-blood, Hermione stood up, wanting to leave the room with what was little left of her dignity.

As she passed by Narcissa's side, the woman rested her hand in her shoulder. Hermione unconsciously flinched at the unexpected touch. "I have experience with healing. Allow me to help you with your wounds." Said the blue-eyed woman.

The brunette gave her a guarded look. Narcissa maintained her expressionless façade.

Since when this woman was suddenly so concern with her well-being? Considering that their last encounter wasn't very amenable. Beyond doubt, there was an ulterior motive here, waiting to be uncovered.

And while Hermione didn't see lies, nor she saw sincerity.

Seeing the hesitation in the girl's face Narcissa added: "At least let me see the injury and I'll give you the potions you need."

As if on cue, the wound reminded her that it was still there and perhaps open again.

Against her better judgment, Hermione accepted.

Narcissa turned around and walked out of the room, looking behind her shoulder to see if the girl was following her. Hermione kept a safe distance from the woman, letting her know she wasn't fully trusting her intentions. The blonde led the brunette towards the right wing, where her personal quarters were. A forbidden section for the guests, something that didn't deter Hermione considering that she had been here before when she borrowed books from Narcissa's private library to further her own research.

They walked in silence. The muffled steps of the witches on the carmine carpet was the only sound filling the space between them.

Narcissa opened the heavy mahogany door, stepping aside, her hand made an inviting motion to let the girl pass. Hermione stood there, unmoving, clearly unwilling to go first. Without any remark, the blonde calmly walked into the room. The girl followed after her.

"Take a sit and remove your upper clothes." Narcissa advanced towards a large wooden cabinet.

The room was furnished with a similar style than the rest of the mansion; except for the small bed in the corner that seemed more like a hospital bed than a typical bed. The cabinets displayed many different potions that Hermione didn't recognize at first sight. Between the cabinets, there was a long desk with sets of instruments and other essentials for potion making as well as alchemy. The brunette now understood why the woman was surveying her ingredients with such interest that time she was in her room. The blonde woman seemed to be an enthusiast of brewing potions.

Hermione proceeded to remove her upper clothes caked with dried mud. Dried blood was glued to her wound, making her wince in discomfort.

"Why are you helping me?" Asked the girl as she sat on the bed, her tone was neutral. If Narcissa weren't with her back turned, she would have seen the obvious distrust in brown eyes. "I thought you hated my kind."

Narcissa chose that second to turn around; her eyes were cold, indifferent. "I'm under the orders of the Dark Lord to assist in whatever capacity. That includes healing you." Hermione searched through her face a sign of deceit, but she was quickly learning that Narcissa hid her emotions effectively. Nevertheless, her gut told her that even if her words were to be true, the reason behind it, wasn't. No matter what Voldemort ordered her to do.

"Let me see." Said the woman. "Raise your arm a little."

Hermione stared into the ocean-blue orbs inspecting her wound as if trying to read her thoughts.

The woman's eyes brows furrowed slightly; the tip of her finger grazed lightly over the injury, making the brunette take a sharp breath. "It definitely needs attention, as it has the risk to get infected" The woman informed her.

"I think it's cursed with an Agony hex," Hermione said. The last thing she wanted to do was to look down and see that the injury was worse than her original estimation.

Narcissa nodded "I see it. Let me see if I have something for that." Returning to the tall cabinet, several tiny drawers were opened as she took out different ingredients from each one. The ingredients were placed one by one on a balance to measure the necessary quantity for each one. From the lowest cabinet, Narcissa took out what looked like a small bowl.

The blonde placed all the components into a mortar and with a pestle started to break and mix them together.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, letting her muscles relax if only a little. She had been working overtime. The exact time of the night eluded her, but she was pretty sure dawn was about to come out very soon.

Her tired mind focused on the noise of the pestle hitting against the mortar. It felt like a lifetime ago since she had heard that so familiar noise. Such simple noise made her think of Hogwarts, of her Potions and Herbology classes. It made her think about how happy she used to be; so eager to learn everything she could get her hands on.

At moments like this, which were very scarce, she would indulge to left her thoughts drift towards the land of 'what if.' What if she didn't have imprinted on Bellatrix? Would her parents be alive? Most likely. What if she could have foreseen Dumbledore's plan? Would she have joined the Death Eaters? What if she didn't become infected with lycanthropy? How different would her life be?

_'__One bad day, it took one awful day for my life to change 180°__degrees.' _

Her body started to feel heavier by the second.

Narcissa grabbed a wooden chair and sat in front of the girl "I have to clean the injury manually, first."

Hermione opened her eyes, feeling slightly muzzy. A heartbeat later the ripple of pain caused by the woman's treatment fully awoke her again. She flinched at the touch but didn't withdraw from it.

"Did my sister did this?" Narcissa asked, conversationally. Her voice was tender and feminine without being girly. It sounded graceful to the girl's ears. "Move a little to your right."

Hermione held a snort back; there was something amusing on the fact that Narcissa would consider first that Bellatrix had harmed her, instead of asking if she was maimed by another witch or wizard. "No. Karkaroff did it."

"Did you kill him?" Soft fingers carefully removed any remaining dirt and small strands of fabrics mixed with blood and flesh. Narcissa had a nice touch, Hermione thought. Her brown eyes kept stealing glances at the woman, who seemed fully focused on her task. She couldn't help herself but to appreciate now that the blonde had the hair loose, it made her look younger than she was.

"Bellatrix did… I just distracted him." She replied. A soft hum returned in acknowledgment. "How bad is it? I haven't dared to see it"

"It did a large cut, from here…" Narcissa put a finger just under her breast "…to here" pointing the beginning of her back. "At least 1 centimeter wide. You were lucky, it was meant to cut deep."

"Yeah, I know." She murmured. It almost cost her life by getting distracted, that was one thing she couldn't blame on Bellatrix.

The brunette let the woman do her thing, in the meantime she let her eyes wander around the room. From time to time, her eyes would unconsciously drift towards the blonde, taking small glimpses of her features.

Narcissa didn't look like Bellatrix at all, hard to believe they were sisters. The woman before her had thinner lips than Bellatrix's. Although they almost seemed to have almost the same chiseled nose, except that Narcissa's was pointier. The girl's eyes drifted towards her neck, Narcissa's had a rosy skin while Bellatrix was fully alabaster. Probably both had born with pale skin, but Narcissa's was naturally suntanned while the fact that Bellatrix had been hardly touched by the sun in 14 years, helped her preserve her original skin color.

Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes drifted at the indiscreet cleavage. She swallowed hard, realizing that the woman didn't have anything under her peignoir, she could clearly see the outline of her breast. Her gaze quickly fell to her lap, swallowing the first stirs of embarrassment mixed with confusion.

She took a quick glance at the woman's face, who seemed deep in concentration cleaning her injury. "You seem to like making potions." Her cheeks were tinted with light specks of red.

"Something of the sorts." The woman replied circumspectly. Narcissa finished cleaning the wound, hastily stood up to leave the material on the small table, then proceeded to grab the mortar.

"This room has nothing to ask from the local apothecary at Diagon Alley." It was true, this room seemed to have everything.

"I have always wanted to become Potion's Master." Despite her words, her tone betrayed nothing. She might have as well said she wanted to become a professional quidditch player and her voice would be equally detached. Uninterested.

The blonde pulled her wand and cast a spell to pour boiling water into the small bawl. Soon the smell of lavender and Namut root permeated the room.

"Why didn't you?" Her question sounded more like a challenge. Hermione didn't believe her.

"Real life happened, Miss Granger." Narcissa's tone made very clear that the conversation was closed. Yet, it was enough for Hermione to understand the ramifications of that comment. "Here, drink this. It serves for the wound doesn't get infected." Hermione took the small bottle and drank all its contents.

All the ingredients from the mortar were carefully placed into a white cloth. "This is going to burn." She warned.

Hermione hissed at the contact. The woman kept pressing the cloth over the whole injury, letting the active ingredients do their job.

At that moment blue eyes drifted the scar on the girl's right shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. "What happened to you?" Without a warning, Narcissa touched with her fingertips the rough and fractal scar.

The girl grabbed the woman's wrist, lightly pushing away from her. "Sorry, is a sore spot." Her hand opened, releasing the slim wrist. "It's a spell that went terribly wrong."

Narcissa submerged the cloth on the water left in the mortar, then applied the same method as before. "Why haven't you removed it?"

"I don't want to." A somber look manifested in her brown eyes. "Otherwise, I might forget how I got it." Just as Narcissa, Hermione silently implied that this line of conversation was not to be pursued any further.

They didn't talk after that.

When Narcissa was over Hermione summoned a shirt from her wardrobe and disposed of the muddied rags. "Thank you, Ms. Malfoy." Despite her distrust towards the woman didn't lessen at all, she made an effort for her voice to sound genuine.

At least this time, things were far better than the last encounter she had with the Malfoy matriarch in her room a week ago. It could have gone better, but the night before happened to be full moon; she often woke up cranky after her transformations.

Narcissa gave her two vials. "Here, this is for the rest of your bruises and this one for the blood you surely lost."

"Thank you again, Ms. Malfoy"

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

* * *

Now that she was alone on her bed, sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes flashes of the earlier battle came to the front of her mind. The smell, the magic, and the fear were all there. The fact that Dementors had touched her just added the cherry on top of this disgraceful night.

She wondered if Bellatrix was having the same trouble while trying to sleep. Probably not, assumed the girl. It must be the dementor having trouble sleeping after what that thing has seen in Bellatrix's mind. She snorted loudly at the silly thought.

Bellatrix…

_'__What a horrible witch she is.' _But somehow she found that the woman calling names didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. It annoyed her, yes. But it didn't hurt her or made her feel bad about herself. She couldn't care less, actually.

What truly bothered her was how responsive she was to her touch and smell. Now that was worrying.

_'__I need to stop it'_ She did a mental note to increase the dose on the potion tomorrow, then see how things develop from there.

Her fingers reached for the scar on her side. It was still rough on the edges; Narcissa told her it would take two more days to fully heal. Thankfully the pain was gone. She could tell the woman did a good job.

Hermione rolled on her good side. Her mind assaulted her with the image of Narcissa's body and the fact that she wasn't wearing anything under. Why suddenly did she find herself so embarrassed about it? And worse of all, why she was slightly aroused at the thought? The question she had been asking herself since Bellatrix became her imprint came back to haunt her.

_'__Do I really like women?' _

* * *

It was midafternoon when Hermione arrived in the dining room. Having skipped breakfast, her stomach demanded sustenance. The confident pace faltered for a beat; she was surprised to find people in the room at this hour. Dolohov and Yaxley were sitting in front of each other, she was sure that they were having a heated discussion before she made her entrance in the room. Now, they just were looking at her with curiosity mixed with distrust. At the other end of the table was Lucius and Narcissa drinking tea.

How weird it was to find more than two people in a room. The mansion was spacious, to say the least. A large display of opulence and vanity. Hard to imagine that originally there were only three people living here.

She walked halfway, of what the brunette considered, an unnecessarily long table. The blue-eyed woman acknowledged her presence with a simple look directed at her; Hermione returned the gesture with a short-lived smile. Her husband, on the other hand, pretended she didn't exist.

The brunette sat on one of the many chairs. Just as soon she snapped her fingers, and one of the three elves usually attending the kitchens appeared in front of her.

"What would Miss like to eat? Or drink?" Asked the young elf.

"Whatever you have already, or it doesn't take too much time to prepare. And a cup of black tea, loaded, please." A kind smile painted the girl's rosy lips.

"At the order, Miss." The elf said diligently.

The brunette reclined on the backrest and waited for her food to arrive. Her face was pointing upfront, staring at the large windows that presented the view of the outside garden and the white peacocks frolicking nearby. All the while her ears were set to pick up whatever both parties were speaking between themselves. Specially Dolohov, who kept stealing glances her way.

First Greyback. Now, Dolohov. She wondered if Bellatrix had to be added on her list too considering what happened yesterday.

_'__No, if Bellatrix wanted to hurt me, she doesn't need to plot for it.'_ She couldn't be wary of her all the time. It would drive her crazy.

The elf apparated with a soft pop, placing the meal and tea in front of her.

Hermione saw what the elf brought to her, sausages, eggs, ham, a full plate of tropical fruit, toast with jam. Satisfied with the contents, she smiled. "Looks delicious, thank you."

"You are most welcome, miss." The elf emotionally replied, touched by her short but kind words, before disappearing again.

Hermione started to taste the contents of her plate when she heard a shriek — typical of wood being dragged over another wooden surface— that came from her left. Her hand went to her wand in reflex, carefully listening to the large steps approaching her way. The brunette pretended to be oblivious to the surroundings and took a small bite of her sausage.

The figure stopped next to her. She delayed her attention for a moment before acknowledging the presence. Dolohov was looking at her, with an expressionless face. His wand wasn't anywhere visible. Brown eyes spared a single glance, then she returned to her meal.

"I heard that Lestrange and you made all this."

He threw the newspaper on the table next to her plate. There it was, on the first page of the Daily Prophet, the clearing they were last night at. White sheets covered the dismembered bodies on the soil, while multiple Aurors moved around the ground looking for clues; the cherry on top was the thoroughly burned forest in the background.

Hermione took a large bite from a piece of toast, her taste buds danced in bliss. These elves knew how to make their bread!

**_Mass murder in the northern islands._**

_Yesterday an anonymous source reported to the Aurors, posted in Iseville, the disappearance of many wizards at the southeast of the Vertwood village. The two Aurors responded according to protocol and headed to investigate. They arrived at the scene guided by the wildfire caused by unknown reasons at the moment. "We knew something bad might have happened, but we never imagined this" Andrew L., one of the two Aurors said in a statement. What they found could only be described as heinous in nature. "We sent a Patronus immediately to the Auror Department at the Ministry," Andrew said._

_The two Aurors received immediate assistance. Led by the Head of Auror Department: Gawain Robards, a larger group of Aurors came expeditiously to investigate. As their first response was to send Dementors to track any possible perpetrator. An official statement claims that they found no one in the area. _

_At the present moment, the authorities have found 14 bodies, mostly all are lacking limbs one way or another. The note sent by the anonymous source mentioned that Death Eaters were involved in the crime, however, the authorities still have to give a statement about the motivation behind the massacre or whether Death Eaters have a direct relation to it. As for the moment many belongings from a small lodge, located nearby from where the massacre took place, are being taken into custody, hoping it'll provide further insight into what happened there._

_Some of the deceased were recognized as wanted criminals by the Ministry such as…_

"16," Hermione said between bites in a monotone voice. Her eyes connected with Dolohov; the man didn't seem to understand what she meant. "There were 16 people besides Lestrange and me, which means they haven't found Karkaroff charred corpse or they did and haven't reported it yet. And the other one, they will never find him as he was blown up into tiny little pieces." She threw the paper on the table pushing it towards Dolohov "And I assume that the anonymous source was a man that calls himself Mr. H, he was an acquaintance of the deceased." Hermione spared one last look to the Death Eater, before fully returning to her meal.

_'__Of course, they had to take the books. Damn it.' _

Dolohov raised his eyebrows, a smile formed on his lips. Accepting the answer, he walked back to the other man who was waiting for him at the main door. "I won. Pay up, Yaxley" was the last thing Hermione heard before the two men left the room.

She took a glimpse to her right and noticed that Narcissa and Lucius stayed silent sipping their teas, evidently, they had paid attention to her interaction with Dolohov.

Lucius picked something from his lap and placed it on the table. It was another copy of the Daily Prophet.

_ '__Good, now they know what I'm capable of'_

Hermione's eyes fluttered at the taste of the elves' handcrafted jam.

* * *

Hermione spent the whole day hole up alone in the library till late in the evening, her eyes kept avidly devouring the book on her hands and taking notes when she happened to find something relevant.

_'…__After a long-term transformation in Animagus form the patient might need medical help to fully recover their physical human form, as remnants of their transformation are present in their mind and body, the treatment varies on the severity of the case, from days to weeks or even months…' _

"…Hmm, I wasn't wrong. Pixie dust might be necessary after all." Hermione muttered to herself.

The brunette was completely absorbed in her book and thoughts that she was unaware that her Occlumency shields weren't properly raised. And more importantly, she never did notice the presence until it was already inside her head.

_"__What have you found?" _Words bounced in her head like the voice of her own conscience; the difference was that her inner voice sounded like her own voice. This voice, was raspy, like an old person, and yet it had the mirth and petulance of a child. Sometimes, the vowels were stretched at the end of a sentence.

Hermione lowered her book, staring down closer to her feet where there was a giant snake looking at her with those bright yellow predatory eyes.

"Hello to you too." She replied, somewhat amused.

Nagini didn't say anything else or moved, she continued gazing at the brunette; every three seconds her forked tongue would come out her mouth like a black leather whip.

Brown eyes roamed along the snake's large body, today she looked very well-fed, rounded, a little bit fat, really. She seemed to had a large dinner, surely another victim of the Lord's temper.

_"__Is rude to stare," _Nagini said, yet there wasn't any sign of reproach on her voice.

"You are doing the same"

_"__You haven't answered my question."_

The brunette released a frustrated sigh, the snake was just as demanding as her master and didn't know how to ask things properly. "I need to do more investigation before I can honestly say anything." She reclined her body on the backseat and pointed at the book on her lap, letting the snake know that she just interrupted her research. "For now, knowing where it came from can help us to understand the curse."

"This book" She pointed at the recently acquired book the day before "mentions another source from the curse that is not related to Metamorphmagi or Animagus."

Nagini's large body started to clumsily coil, Hermione had learned to recognize as a sign that she was getting comfortable. Which in this case, the snake was interested in listening about what Hermione had to say.

Due to Nagini's body was especially large tonight, it took her longer to fully accommodate herself. Hermione smiled at the sight.

"Have you ever heard of Nüwa?"

_"__The snake goddess. Mother used to tell me stories about her when I was a little babe. I know that she became revered by the muggles a long time ago. Why you ask?" _

"Well, according to this material, it says that the descendants of Nüwa were condemned to be born snakes, but perhaps the spell went wrong and…" Hermione couldn't hold back her curiosity anymore and asked: "How old are you?" She remembered, Nagini telling her small fragments of memories about things that happened more than 30 years ago.

The snake stared at her, with the same inactive expression. Considering that she only had two expressions, neutral and pissed, Hermione preferred the neutral one better, which meant she wasn't pissed at her for such an innocent question.

She waited a few more moments before giving up. "Fine then, ignore me." She crossed her arms.

_"__We are not alone. Your mate is here." _Hermione glanced at to where Nagini was looking at. Bellatrix was leaning on one of the many bookcases watching the interaction from afar. Her face didn't reflect anything more than a hardened expression.

_'__Now what is she angry about?' _She noticed how her boots were fully mudded up to the ankle, there were stains of mud on her dueling pants too. And the brunette was sure that the bright stain on her corset was fresh blood. _'She has come from killing someone.'_

_"…__That thing is not my mate, Nagini" _Hermione switched channels of communication.

_"__Isn't it?" _If Nagini could smile, she would be doing it right now. The rough serpentine voice in her head had an amused undertone laying in between.

_"__No, it is not." _Hermione refuted. _"You have no idea what you are talking about."_

_"__Then tell me, why your heart accelerated at the sight of her?" _

_"__Because every time we are the same room, we only end up fighting."_ Their last spat still tasted very bitter under her palate. She glared at the dark witch; a subtle cue stating where they stood.

Nagini uncoiled, her large body accidentally pushed the tower of books the girl had placed close to her. _"We'll meet again. I wish you…luck." _

Bellatrix looked down as the snake pass by her; the animal ignored her presence. Brown eyes observed the small sneer that formed on pale features. It only lasted for half a second, but it was there. She found that piece of information interesting, Lestrange didn't like her master's pet.

The brunette pushed herself up from her seat, the back of her thighs reclined against the edge of the desk, "What do you want, Lestrange?" Her arms crossed, coming out right defensive.

* * *

Hermione knocked on the heavy wood door as she stepped inside. Her sight gradually adapted to the dimmed room; floating candles were situated in the corners and the ceiling, giving the room the exact amount of illumination to be able to walk inside without knocking something, but not enough to see the exact details on the objects.

With tentative steps, she approached the intimidating wizard. "My lord, you called for me?" Voldemort sat next to the balcony; his eyes were set over the dark forest. The wizard reclined his head to the right and looked back at her.

"Ah, Hermione." He greeted lazily. "Do take a seat, my dear."

Hermione sat one of the divans located in the center of the spacious room. Curious eyes roamed to what little she could appreciate from the place. The room's decoration reflected the tastes of another person rather than the Malfoy's. The carpet seemed to be cream-colored, the ceiling was made of wood; artfully enchanted with different intrinsic patterns that took shape of the four elements and magical creatures. The fabric of the sofas shined under dimmed light, like very small particles of glimmering dust was sprinkled on them.

_'__How peculiar his tastes are.' _

The Dark Lord stood up and walked towards the other seat in front of her.

His red eyes settled on the woman who had entered after the girl. "Bellatrix, sit with us." One long ashen hand motioned towards the armchair, a little more distanced from both divans.

Ruby red eyes stared at the brunette, "Bellatrix already told me what happened yesterday." His eyes didn't display any approval or satisfaction, his voice was raspy but lacked sharpness. That wasn't very encouraging. Insecurity started to stir in Hermione. Was he angry? She wondered.

Her hands closed into fists, clutching the fabric of her ropes tightly between her fingers. Surely Bellatrix was willing to step so low as to lie to make her look bad in front of Voldemort. If that were the case, Hermione was ready to defend herself, to say her arguments against the woman. Her steaming anger didn't last much, though.

"She said you did quite well." Now he sounded pleased. "Isn't that what you mentioned, Bella?"

"Indeed, I did. My Lord." Said Bellatrix, noncommittal.

Those words disarmed Hermione, leaving her mind stunted for a second. Her eyes drifted towards the woman and gauge her expression; what she saw was a woman with a bored expression, with arms and legs crossed.

"That you single-handedly defeated 4 skilled wizards and held your ground against Karkaroff for a long time. Is that true?"

Hermione just nodded, unsure that her vocals cords were working properly.

_'__Did Bellatrix compliment me in front of Voldemort?' _

"Tell me, Hermione, did you like it?" The corner of his lips tugged little upwards. "The thrill of the battle, killing them, did you enjoy it?"

When people said aftershocks of battle, they usually referred at the eye twitching, the trembling hand, and other behaviors that came after violent experiences. Hermione still felt the aftershocks of battle, in a very different way. The residues of the thrill she felt when using every bit of magic to destroy and maim, still tingled under her skin when she thought about it.

_'…__I felt powerful.'_

"Yes, I did. My Lord."

Voldemort hummed with evident approval. His arm extended close to Hermione, and from the palm of his hand, he conjured a thick white smoke that slowly took the shape of a person.

Hermione squinted at the figure; it was Karkaroff. "There is always something…" He made a pause, to make sure the girl was paying attention; red eyes connected with brown ones. The illusion spell morphed to color red as flames crept on the agonizing figure. Voldemort was replicating the way Karkaroff died. "…very thrilling in holding the life of others between your hands."

Slowly, the frame on his palm started to morph. The man grew a long white beard, with a pointy wizard hat on his head, then his robes changed to more colorful ones. "And then, extinguish their very light of life from their eyes. Till their eyes become ashen." A slow smile formed on the girl's lips while she observed the fire engulfing the suffering Dumbledore.

The dark wizard closed his palm, extinguishing the illusion.

"A wonderful feeling, my Lord" Added Bellatrix, who seemed calmer than earlier in the library.

_'__Is like having a power you never knew you could have. And when you have a taste of it, you discover you enjoy it.' _She was close to voice out her thoughts but something inside her told to better keep it to herself. There was an underlying danger to make the conscious become even more conscious.

"However, you still got wounded." His words sounded reproachful. Brown eyes returned to see the wizard in surprise, there was no concern on his features, only disapproval.

"A minor injury my Lord." The brunette said, trying to break off the ashamed grimace of her face.

He made a motion with his hand implying that her words held no meaning. "But an injury nonetheless, which tells that you still lack skill."

"I'll practice more." Said the girl like a promise.

"I'm sure you will" The wizard proceeded to walk towards the balcony, he was contemplative for a short span. When he turned around, his eyes fixed on the girl; he uttered his message with stern eyes. "That's why I've tasked Bellatrix to train you. You're going to be under her tutelage."

A cold tremor rippled all over her body, concentrating all its energy on the nape of her head, raising gooseflesh all down her arms. Hermione turned to look at the woman, expecting to see her as disturbed as she felt herself. Instead, she found Bellatrix easing back on her sit, looking utterly indifferent to what was taking place in the room.

Wide-eyed, she returned to watch Voldemort. "Wh— What?"


	9. Chapter 9

Voldemort's word was law. Hermione learned that pretty fast when she arrived here. However, the mere suggestion that this woman was going to train her made her jump from her seat, risking angering the man for her seemingly disrespectful attitude.

She vowed her head before speaking, "My Lord, I've been training all this time by myself. All thanks to your earlier input, I have improved exponentially in this last month. I do not wish for your Lieutenant here, to waste her time with something, I assure you, I can do by myself."

The wizard listened attentively to her words; while his expression said very little, it didn't turn sour. His silence didn't last long, his attention was directed to the woman behind him. "Bellatrix?"

"Is not a waste of time at all, my Lord. The girl is in dire need for some proper guidance." The brunette didn't need to turn around to see that the woman was smiling, taking pleasure in her discomfort. "A hand to guide her properly."

The sharp breath revealed her hate towards Bellatrix's words of choice.

"Then, I don't see any problem." The man said.

"My Lord—"

"It's settled, Hermione." His voice didn't leave any room for more argument.

Her sight dropped to the ground, dejectedly, she sat down again. Frustration and anger mixed together. Just to contemplate the idea that she was about to spend more time with Lestrange made her stomach boil.

_'__Could it be that Bellatrix had suggested this?'_ That would explain her lack of reaction and her unnerving willingness to train her. _'If the idea were to be hers, what would be the purpose of it?' _Her nails started to dig further into rosy skin _'To make my life a living hell.' _Her mind came to an immediate conclusion. _'This was Lestrange's idea and Voldemort agreed to it.' _It made complete sense to her.

"For how long?" This time, the brunette turned to look at the woman.

Bellatrix's eyes held a cruel mirthful look which irritated her even more. "Let's see, I could train pixies to wield a wand faster and better than you in one week. With you, I don't know, it'll probably take several months. Even years."

Her nails dug into her palms, it wasn't the words that bothered her, but the fact that Bellatrix's was so willing to agree to all of this.

"My Lord, I have other responsibilities with you that I do not wish to neglect. And as a personal responsibility with myself, I might not be going to Hogwarts anymore, but I wish to continue my studies." She lowered her head, "I beg you."

Bellatrix snorted loudly at her back.

If Hermione clenched her jaw any further, she was going to break her teeth.

"For now, your only responsibility is to become better at dueling." He turned around again to face the scenery outside "But I must agree, education is important." Pale hands encased each other behind his back. "You'll train with Bellatrix till she deems you suitable, for 3 hours a day."

The brunette bowed, "Thank you, my Lord." Three hours still sounded very long for her.

"Leave us, Hermione"

No need to be told twice, the girl almost jumped from the divan. As she was leaving the room, the beginnings of the conversation between Voldemort and Bellatrix traveled to her ears…

"Now, be brief. How many Aurors are dead and how many caches were lost…"

"It was Greyback's responsibility to…"

"But you were in charge."

Moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating every step of the way. Voldemort liked to live up to his name: 'Dark Lord' The man enjoyed spaces where the light was scarce. Normally the whole mansion would be fully illuminated until midnight when the elves extinguished every source of light in the common areas. But here, like the rest of the rooms the Lord liked to use, the light was very limited. If it weren't for the natural light, Hermione would have used her wand to be able to see.

Amidst her steaming irritation, Hermione wondered if Bellatrix would actually train her? And if so, how far would she go? How could she defend herself if the woman decided to create real damage? She couldn't help but make up images and scenarios of the endless possibilities in which Bellatrix could abuse the power she had been granted. The possibility increased the turmoil in her stomach.

She stopped at the beginning of the hallway; to her left were the stairs that lead to her room, where she could destroy and explode something, and vent this consuming emotion in her chest.

On the other hand, Hermione wasn't willing to move on and let it go; she thought to confront Bellatrix, to confirm her assumptions and more importantly figure out what game was the woman playing at.

So, she waited.

That woman looked like the cat who ate the canary moments ago. Which it made her think that this was indeed Bellatrix's idea.

And if this wasn't Lestrange's plan like she believed it was, the other option was that Voldemort had this idea, only because Bellatrix told him that she got injured, which if she had kept her mouth shut then they wouldn't be here. In the end, it was Bellatrix's fault one way or another.

Before she could stew further in her anger, a shadow was approaching from the dark hallway.

"Lestrange, that wasn't the Lord's idea. It was yours!"

Bellatrix passed by the girl, ignoring her existence. Hermione went after her next matching the walking pace with the woman. "You suggested this! Why?!"

They crossed the foyer and headed down towards the west wing. "I don't understand! you hate me just as much as I hate you!" The girl raised her arms in exasperation. "Why would you want to spend time with me?"

"I don't! stupid girl!" Their steps stopped abruptly. Bellatrix glowered at brunette like she wanted to strangle her. "You are worthless filth; what makes you think I want to waste my time with you?"

"You tell me!" Her eyes narrowed. "How about to make my life unbearable."

The dark witch barked a dried laugh, her teeth bared. "Don't think so highly of yourself, mudblood"

"If not to that, then why?!"

"When he asked me about our little mission, I did tell him that you are mudblood: useless as they come. Deadweight on my shoulders." Black eyes glittered with disdain. "He didn't believe me, asked me to see into my memories."

Hermione's tense posture deflated a little. It had been his idea, after all. What was the Lord thinking? Was he changing his opinion about forcing Bellatrix on her? With what purpose? She already proved her loyalty to him. It didn't make any sense.

_'__He saw into her memories…?'_

"He is punishing you" It was the only conclusion Hermione could arrive at. "Us. You for lying and I for getting injured."

The dark witch features relaxed slightly, "I didn't lie." One eyebrow raised, as a way to emphasize her words. "You _are_ deadweight"

"But then I thought that is not such a bad idea" The space between shorted by Bellatrix. An intimidation tactic that Hermione had begun to recognize. "Because you see, little mudblood, I don't trust you." Bellatrix looked up and down, sniffing in disgust "You hide something…And what better way to know if you are not a traitor than to have you under my thumb."

"Our Lord doesn't seem to think so. He believes that I'm worthy enough to be here." Hermione retorted.

Bellatrix's lips shaped into a cruel smile; her piercing eyes opened wide, unblinking. "Don't confuse your usefulness with being worthy, you are not worthy of anything."

The smile became wider, pitch-black eyes glimmered with glee at the sight of the girl's bravado stuttering for a second while at the same time trying very hard to swallow her immediate retort. Bellatrix wasn't worth it. At all.

"Be outside in the back garden after midday." The dark witch didn't wait for a reply as she walked past by her side, shoving the girl with her shoulder.

Brown eyes, framed by a deep frown, watched the woman disappear into one of the many rooms ahead. "Bloody witch…" She closed her eyes for a few seconds, feeling the subtle pulses at the back of her head. A headache was coming her way.

'_Nothing good will come out of this. What was Voldemort thinking?'_

"Granger." A monotonous yet familiar voice greeted her a few paces behind her. It was hard to explain why, but a feeling similar to relief set on her stomach, perhaps because the man was the only reminder of her past life. For just a second, the corners of her lips tugged upwards.

But before she could show a genuine emotion, she thought better of it by reminding herself that the man before her wasn't her friend.

An Ally? That remained to be seen, hopefully soon.

Was he another pawn in the greater game? Yes, just like her.

And if her suspicions were true, he spied for Dumbledore. Which was something that mattered to her, not for the Lord's cause but for her personal cause. With that in mind and her anger lingering under the layers of her temperament, her reply turned polite, without being anything else but general courtesy.

"Professor Snape."

"Must I remind you that I'm not your professor any longer?" There was certain undertone there in his words and voice. As if he didn't truly mean it.

"Snape, then." A pawn just like her… An equal.

"Making friends, Granger?" The man said while his head turned to see the trail that Bellatrix walked minutes ago.

"You saw it. The best of friends." She said dryly.

They stared at each other. Behind his usually stoic face, there was a reserved look in his eyes that Hermione has seen before, but never understood what was about.

"Walk with me." The man turned to his left, and walked through the main door.

Outside the night was chilly, living in higher lands would make, that even in summer, people wore an extra layer of clothes during the night. The peacocks' cawing announced that they were still cavorting at these hours, their feathers became brighter as they were touched by silver rays; looking stunningly beautiful.

Hermione winced at the shrilling sound one of them did, remembering that their high-pitched calls were the main reason why she didn't like these animals.

They continued walking in silence, taking steps farther away from the Mansion. Hermione chose that moment to rose her head up to the sky and see the beautiful moon shining brighter even at its Waxing Gibbous. She could not help but take it as a reminder that in no less than 20 days the full moon will come and with it her transformation.

"I saw the newspaper," Snape said, bringing her back to reality. They continued walking down a path to lower terrain, the brunette recognized that this one led to the Mansion's west gardens.

Expecting him to elaborate further, she didn't make a sound. Yet after silence prevailed, and her patience thinned, she prompted, "Your point?"

"Did you participate in the murders?" There was no emotion in his voice, nothing that could tell her whether he approved or not.

Was he expecting a negative answer?

Her hand went through her hair instinctively as an attempt to dissuade the increasing pulsing in her head. _'Why should I care what he thinks?'_

"Of course."

_'__What a question…'_

The man only nodded in acknowledgment; his features remained impassive. Soon, they were stepping over low-cut grass, marking the beginnings of the luxurious garden. As the silence between them reigned again, the brunette sensed that he wasn't about to continue that line of conversation.

"Have you told Dumbledore that I'm still alive?" Hermione wondered what would she do if he were to say 'yes'.

_'__No, he won't. Even if he did, he won't.'_

"I believe you said you didn't want him to know."

"That's correct… But I can't stop you."

"Neither can I stop you." Hermione snorted; although it didn't prove anything about his allegiance. It appeared to be that Severus had decided to admit that there was a power in rumors and suspicions.

"He lied to all of us." Severus said.

_'__Ah…Of course.'_ She more than anyone understood the feeling.

They stopped at the main fountain right in the middle of the garden. This fountain, unlike the others she had seen before, had the Malfoy crest in the center. Three male statues held the heavy crest over their shoulders; their gazes set on the nocturnal visitors.

Hermione could swear they were looking at her with a certain disdain.

The black dragons on the side of the shield batted their wings while the snakes on top intertwined and hissed among themselves. And the ribbon under the large 'M', which occupied most of the space on the shield proudly displayed the family's motto: **_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_**.

Even though the brunette considered some of the political views from Voldemort were reasonable; the blood purity one was just plain ridiculous. Seeing it present in the Malfoy's family crest only served to annoy her, and dislike that family even more.

"You are either too naïve or too stupid to realize that he will know earlier than you can count on." The potions master said.

"He won't know if you don't tell him" Hermione insisted.

Now that the answer she was looking for had been spoken, Hermione moved on and asked the question she was meaning to ask in their last conversation: "Shall I be worried, Severus?" Her eyes were set on the silver-colored fishes that swam in the water fountain; her fingers played with the outline between her wand and her sleeve.

"Shall I be worried that if he were to know, will he order you to kill me?"

She wanted to cast a Diffindo across the fishes, slice them into chunks, or practice Crucio on each little one…

…Maybe later.

"...Will you kill me, Severus?"

This time Severus turned to fully face the girl. Hermione matched his motion. "What do you think is going to happen when things start to progress from now on?" He raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner, yet didn't wait for a reply. "You won't be killing criminals anymore, Granger. You'll be killing innocent people. You will be killing people that you might know. Are you willing to pay that price?"

Her defiant gaze strayed away from Snape, choosing an empty spot in the darkness of the garden.

"What are you going to do when you and your friends meet face to face? Because if you think it will not happen, you are severely mistaken, Granger" His voice started to turn harsh, cutting. "Do you think our Lord will let you live if you as much refuse to kill them? Have those thoughts have passed through in that big brain of yours?"

"Of course not." He snorted, not bothering to hide his contempt anymore. "Why would you? You don't seem to understand the consequences of your actions."

"And allow me to enlighten you and give you the reason why _I know _you haven't truly thought things through." He made a pause as if he was trying to harness his emotions. "Because you are here. Still playing in a war. A child. In a war that only belongs to grown-ups."

Hermione brushed aside his words. There he was again, talking down at her like she was a little girl that didn't understand anything of how things worked. Old and new anger started to creep into her again, running through her body like fire being fed with oil. "Do not presume that I hadn't!" Her jaw tensed up. "Those thoughts are always in the front of my mind after I wake up and before going to sleep. Always! Since the moment I accepted his offer!"

"And if you knew what really happened, you'll understand that I didn't have a choice." She intently at him. "Do me a favor and don't regard me like a bloody child. Because the moment that Albus Dumbledore put me in Gryffindor to befriend Harry, then years later decided to kill my parents, I'm anything but! He made sure to rob me of my childhood!"

She closed her eyes; her head was throbbing and the exacerbated emotions weren't helping.

"You _had_ a choice. You will always _have_ a choice." Severus said it as if it was a fact.

Her eyes opened filled with incredulity, a humorless chuckle escaped from her throat. "Did I? When did I have a choice? The part where our Lord offered me to stay with him or just leave? Oh, Yes! He gave me the option to leave." Her head cocked to the side. "But really? If he were to tell you that, would you believe that rubbish? Would you be so gullible to believe that he was honest about his intentions with me? I'm not stupid, Snape." She hissed. "Either I joined him or die. It doesn't take 2 brain cells to reach that conclusion."

Hermione had the sense to recognize that she wasn't being entirely honest. No matter if the Dark Lord had or hadn't given her a choice. That day, she was driven only by the pain of betrayal and the need for retribution when she decided to take her wand from Voldemort's hand.

"I'm here because is the only thing close to living"

_'…__Not true, either'_ The intrusive voice in her head reminded her.

The man stepped away from the brunette, suddenly needing space. Brown eyes could the dozens of thoughts running in his head. His index finger pressed into his lips. If Hermione wasn't so busy being angry, she would have noticed how expressive Severus was being right now, compared to his always statue-like posture.

"Then let me ask you this…" His voice sounded cold, detached. "What are you going to do when you have Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley in front of you? Ready to defend Dumbledore and the cause they believe in." His gaze fixed on the girl, studying her. "Will you kill them? Will you let them live at the price of your life?" every step he took forward, sounded heavier and deeper for the girls' ears

"What are you going to do, Granger?"

_'__Is not of our business.' _

"Answer!"

Hermione's shoulders tense up, not expecting the sudden shout

"What are you going to do?" He drawled.

She really didn't know; Hermione didn't want to kill them. Her friendship with them might have been strained the last time she saw them, but still, she has very fond memories of them together. A part of her hoped that when the opportunity came, they could…Talk.

_'__Talk.' _

Well, that sounded stupid even in her head.

"I don't know."

This wasn't fair. He had no right to treat her like this just because she didn't have all the answers.

_'__But you already have the answer…'_ A voice in the back of her mind whispered over the frontier of her conscious thoughts.

There was a time where her friends meant everything to her… Does the feeling still exist?

_'__No.' _

_'…__Yes! It does.'_

"What?" Asked the man.

_'__Perhaps…It doesn't'_

Enough!

"I said, I don't know!" The dragons and the snakes from the carved crest hissed and shrieked at her roar.

Her tolerance from his continuous derision towards her persona had reached its limits. Severus said it, he wasn't her professor anymore. Hermione didn't need to be tolerating his attitude.

The man was again composed and stoic, not a single trace of his earlier contempt remained. However, there was pity laying under that heavy gaze of his, something that the brunette wanted to erase by pulling his eyes out with her own hands.

There was a boiling sensation in her gut. Sweat began to pool in her armpits and lower back.

"Then you haven't thought of anything, but little fantasies of your petty revenge."

Hermione denied that statement; her mind was trapped in a swamp of strong emotions, muddling any rational thought that wanted to bring some sense into her. "That's not true." Brown eyes filled with fury looked at the tall figure.

"Isn't it?" The man said, getting one step closer to the girl, now he just seemed more amused than anything else. "Maybe is true what they say, Mudbloods are not that bright and capable as they believe they are. You are very, _very disappointing_, Granger."

She felt like he punched her on the stomach, Hermione clang to every word of that sentence. Her face turned numb, not aware of the pained expression. Her head pounded like a drum; Her breaths suddenly became shallow and her steps wavered slightly.

Something broke inside of her, and something more born anew, it was clawing its way up to the surface. For a moment she thought it was her heart, but that wasn't possible. Her heart was already broken. No, this was taking place in her mind. Suddenly her headache became horribly painful.

And then everything went red.

"Pull out your wand!"

Hermione took out her wand from her sleeve, aiming it at the man.

"Pull out your bloody wand now!" She growled.

Snape didn't react at her bravado display.

A stinging hex was cast, to motivate the wizard.

The man repelled the attack like she expected him to. Severus didn't retaliate, but his wand was out and his feet were separated from each other.

He was ready.

"What do you think you'll achieve with this Granger?"

Lights flashed with incredible speed.

Her feet moved in synchrony with the movement of her arm, her casts were strong, brutish and heavy even if they were non-verbal spells. Hexes came out from her wand at the rhythm of her heart, drumming by the rage that consumed her mind and body by an equal amount.

Hermione's steps were unpolished and sometimes wrong, the man immediately noticed it. But her magic was unrestrained and primitive compensating her inferior technique with the strength of her spells.

Fireballs, slashing curses, explosive spells. All were shot in succession.

Severus maintained himself at the offensive by disintegrating attacks and repelling the ones that held a large amount of force within the projectile. The explosive sounds of hexes rumbled against the hard soil and stones of the garden; dust rose from the ground forming small clouds around their bodies. The sounds of bushes were being severed, explosions of nearby flowerpots and wind condensing, and contracting oxygen particles became the orchestra that accompanied their fight.

"Bombarda!"

The wizard saw the girl's face and how out of herself she was. Her teeth were on display like a feral animal ready to bite. The more he repelled her attacks the more her eyes became erratic and her attacks turned even more destructive.

"Ignis Fulgur!" Hermione roared.

A flame with the strength of lightning was shot at him, Severus was barely able to physically evade the attack, the unexpected spell left his mind stunned for a costly span of time as he had to roll again for the second shot. This time, the veiny residues from the curse had grazed his robes slashing a part of it; he rolled once more on the floor to turn off the fire growing on the lower end of the robe.

Two things came to the man's head: One, he greatly underestimated the girl's ability to cast dark magic. Two, she wanted to kill him or at least fully maim him.

The magical sources that granted light had long extinguished during their fight, now the bright moonlight was their only source for visibility.

"Reducto!" Her words were closer to guttural growl than a human voice.

Hermione failed again, and instead she hit one of the statues holding the Malfoy crest exploding it into tiny pieces.

"Granger, what do you think you are doing?!" The man hissed. That spell was meant to kill him.

She wasn't in her right mind, that was evident. He needed to neutralize her. Now.

He pushed himself from the thoroughly burned grass. "Very well, Granger. Let's see how do you defend yourself."

He moved with the art and technique that only a wizard with his experience could have, favoring speed over brutish strength. Nevertheless, the force of his attacks was never to be underestimated, as they were perfected to break the barriers of other seasoned wizards. Although his priority, for now, was not to harm the girl but to disarm her and bind her, Severus was ferocious with his attacks.

The girl repelled his spells, her shield was firm and didn't weaken when it was held off a strong spell, her reflexes were so sharpened that she could react with easiness at the next projectile.

His heart started to beat faster, sweat was running down his jaw; a small smile flickered on his face. Hermione fought like an equal to the wizard, almost. Severus was about to finish this feeble attempt of whatever it was.

As he prepared to break her shield, moonlight fully illuminated the girl's face; Severus hesitated. He frowned at the sight confused and marveled all at once.

Hermione's eyes were a bright shade of amber, a far cry from her earthy brown eyes, dangerously shined under the light; on the painted snarl, he saw two prominent fangs coming from her upper teeth.

It was one of those rare moments in his life where he didn't have the explanation for such phenomenon.

However, he came to his senses, knowing that it wasn't the right moment to make sense out of it as Hermione was ready to shoot again. Red jets of light expelled from her wand, with brutal force and speed. Severus rapidly redirected it at the fountain, hitting the center of the crest exploding the rest of it, leaving no piece untouched by the destructive nature of the attack.

The girl didn't leave him with other option but to knock her down.

Severus positioned himself to counter-attack, calculating eyes set on her ex-student, this time though, he wasn't thinking in her well-being.

For every spell he cast, the blue-lighted blasts started to burn a path on the ground and the bushes became the targets of his spells that Hermione rapidly reflected; the vegetation around had small fires. Both witch and wizard were relentless in their attacks and even though Hermione was losing ground, the determination in her gaze never wavered.

He had to give it to the girl, none of the students at Hogwarts, or even Potter could ever last as much as she had lasted, and that was something to be respected, if not admired.

But this had to end.

"Sectumsempra!"

And it did. Hermione fall flat on her back.

The spell was a vicious one, Severus knew this, he created it after all. Pain like that was rarely given by his wand, it was a different sort of torture from the conventional ones.

Death by a thousand cuts.

Invisible knives cut the victim's chest and arms until he or she bled to death. He took pride in his spell; it was efficient and more often than not, his opponents never saw it coming. Providing him with the chance to fully exterminate the enemy or neutralize the victim until he got what he wanted out of them.

This time though, it left a sour taste in his mouth as he saw the girl twisting on the grass in agony. She refused to utter a sound but Severus could see the anguish in her face.

Regardless that she wasn't in her right mind, a lesson needed to be taught. Snape convinced himself, that it was for her own good.

Despite the pain, Hermione's hateful gaze on him hadn't lost its edge, like the pain was in a secondary plain right after the impulse to want to kill the man. He stepped closer to the girl, kicking the wand that was lying next to her hand in the process.

He kneeled beside her. Her breathing was strained, labored. Whether it was in exhaustion, anger or pain, Severus couldn't tell. His hands went to the sides of her head, holding her with a firm grip. With the intention to confirm what he thought his eyes earlier deceived him. As he expected it, there was resistance, Hermione, in her desperation, tried to scratch his arms and face, even bite his hand.

"Calm down, Granger I won't hurt you." _Not anymore_ was left unsaid. For some unknown reason, she relented. Not without losing her grip over his arms.

As he took a closer look, his eyes opened in surprise, just as if he was seeing it for the first time. Both eyes were a bright amber color, just like honey. A thumb pulled up her upper lip, her teeth were normal, all except from the two sharp fangs that almost grazed her lower lips. The lower canines were sharpened but hadn't grown.

Maybe this wasn't too much of a mystery and more of rarity… Werewolves were emotional beings… Perhaps what he said…. And maybe the moon might have influenced… How about the people who didn't fully suffer from lycanthropy but still showed symptoms? Could it be that she was one of them…?

His mind was running so fast trying to find an explanation for such fascinating development that he never heard the steps enclosing a few meters behind him,

"Severus, what happened here?" The man turned around at neck-breaking speed. For a fleeting moment, he got the feeling in his gut that he was caught doing something terrible and unforgivable according to popular opinion. "What happened to her?"

Hermione was barely conscious at this moment; her eyes were losing its focus, and the breathing became ragged. Severus quick response was to cast on the girl the counter-spell for his attack. A white light came out of his wand slowly closing and healing the severe damage, leaving no evidence behind of its nasty effects.

However, the counter-spell was only designed to cure what damage had his invented spell had done. The small scratches on the girl's cheek and hands were still there, those needed separate treatment.

Another flick of his wrist and Severus put her to sleep.

"Severus?"

The man hesitated a few more seconds before standing up. "We were dueling." He said. "Why are you here, Narcissa?"

"I live here." Narcissa raised an eyebrow while crossing her arms over her chest. She inspected the wizard in front of her. His hair was unusually disheveled, drops of sweat ran all the way to his chin. The vest and lower part of his pants had dirt spots; The robe got most of the damage as it was partially burned at the lower end.

Aware of his faux-pas, Severus offered an explanation. "Our duel got heated, Hermione lost her temper. I had to put her down."

And so did the blonde woman, "The elf told me there were wizards fighting in the garden."

"And why did you come? Why no Lucius?"

Narcissa didn't appreciate the distrust in his voice. "Lucius and the others are out" She replied with a clipped tone.

"Draco?"

"Sleeping."

Her gaze set on the sleeping girl once again. "What really happened to her, Severus?" Narcissa thought if she were to find another man hurting the girl as he did, she would probably hex them first then ask questions later. But Severus wasn't that kind of man. She knew him. Nonetheless, she wasn't about to be taken for a fool. It was evident the man wanted to lie to her.

Severus' attention drifted pass Narcissa. Seeing all the damage they did to the terrain, it made him released a tired sigh. "I'll explain everything. But first, allow me to take her inside." He took the girl in his arms.

Narcissa moved aside to let Snape pass before her; the smell of smoke and sweat lingered behind the two bodies as they moved. Before following the man, the blonde turned her gaze once more at her garden in ruins, making a mental note to instruct the gardening elves to repair everything tomorrow and to send a letter to the sculptor enchanter for another family crest.

As she was about to turn back, she caught a whiff of something roasted, were it not for she already had dinner, the smell could have awakened her appetite. Blue eyes scanned the area looking for the source. Was someone eating nearby? The question lasted less than 3 seconds, with five tentative steps towards the rose bushes Narcissa found the answer

The Malfoy matriarch stayed still, her eyebrows knitted at the sight of two peacocks laying charred on the ground, considering how they were positioned they were caught while mating. Now, it appeared to be that their flesh had melted together, the longer ends of their now darkened feathers still sustained small flames, smoke came from their bodies which carried around the roasted smell.

She blinked twice, then muttered an intelligible word under her breath. "Maybe we shouldn't have any animals while she is here." With that thought in mind, Narcissa walked back towards her home.


	10. Chapter 10

_Today was the hottest day ever registered in London; the temperature outside was almost 36°C. To the house inhabitants' dismay, the Air Conditioner's engine was broken. Hermione cleaned the sweat from her brow for what it felt the tenth time in the last 5 minutes, her shirt was clinging to her skin, soaked in sweat, and her legs felt clammed as if they were smeared with glue and adhered to each other. Not knowing what else to do, but try to ignore the uncomfortable sensations, her brown eyes drifted once again to the book on the kitchen table, Hogwarts: A History. Might as well do some light reading on a terribly warm day._

_Her mother commenced humming a tune while she washed the dishes, only a few steps away from the brunette. The song sounded familiar yet she couldn't exactly pinpoint where she heard it before. She lifted her head, stared intently at her mother as if by looking at her would help her recognize the song. \_

_She was sure she had heard it somewhere, maybe on the street or in the supermarket. There was something comforting in that tune. After a few seconds, she gave up. Her gaze fell once more at the book; which wasn't on the table anymore._

_Weird. She could swear she was reading a book just a moment ago._

_'__The sweetness of this new-found peace, more precious than gold ~Hmm… Hm~ The tender compassion that gives elation as we behold…' Her heart swelled with joyful nostalgia as she finally recognized the lyrics. She remembers now, that was the song her mom and her dad used to sing to her before bedtime when she was a little. How could she have forgotten?_

_Hermione smiled at the memory of how her dad used to raise the tone of his voice to overshadow her mom's, arguing that he sang better than her mom, which actually it was all the contrary, he could not even hold a note to save his life. _

_Where was he at, anyway?_

_'__He went to… I don't know.' She wondered why couldn't it seemed impossible to remember where he was at; she tried to think the last time she saw him. Was it this morning? Or yesterday before going to sleep?_

_She cleaned the sweat on her forehead once more; the small drops running down her back made it difficult to concentrate._

_'__Hermione… Hermione!' Her mother was moving her hand in front of her to get her attention._

_'__Oh, sorry mom, what's up?' The girl said, getting out of her thoughtful daze._

_She was probably making a funny face because her mom cocked her head and chuckle. 'What's got you so lost in thought?'_

_'__I- I don't know' She slightly frowned._

_'__Is it because of that boy? What's his name?'_

_No, she actually can't remember what she was thinking seconds ago._

_'__Ah, Ronald. You fancy him, isn't that right?' A genuine smile formed on her mother's lips._

_'__What? No!' Hermione replied, making an exaggerated face of disgust. She even found the mere suggestion ridiculous. _

_'__Don't worry, I won't tell your dad, you know how overprotective he can get' Her mother said as she dried her hands on the apron, then she unhurriedly removed it and hanged it on one of the lower cabinet's handle. _

_'__Mom, trust me I'm not thinking about boys. Especially not Ronald.' Ronald is a friend… and Harry too, he was… is a friend. Hermione frowned, feeling the anxiety manifesting in her body. Why thinking about them made her feel suddenly so uncomfortable?_

_Her mother stepped closer, a sad smile painted on her face 'You know, I see sometimes these flashings of nostalgia in your eyes… A sadness that is hidden beneath them. I wish you would tell me what is going on in your life' Tender hands cupped her cheeks, equally browns eyes connected with hers. 'Oh my, aren't you all grown up? You have become such a beautiful woman, Ladybug.' Hermione pressed her hands over her mother's, she loved the tender touch of her mother's hand, it made her feel as if all her problems could just fade away just by being held by her mother._

**_I have so much I need to tell you, mom... _**

_'__Thanks, mom' A knot formed on her throat, blocking the words she wished to say but didn't know how to. _

_Uh? What is it that she wanted to say? _

_'__Anyway, I know that you sometimes miss Hogwarts, so I invited someone for dinner.' Her mom spoke, being none the wiser of Hermione's emotions, she took one step back breaking the embrace. 'Don't ask who is it, is a surprise.' She winked at her. _

**_My parents don't know anyone from Hogwarts._**

_Before Hermione could ask who was it, the doorbell ringed._

_'__Oh, he must have arrived early.' Her mother quickly stepped outside the kitchen; Hermione followed her._

_'__He? Please tell me is not Ronald!' Hermione muttered, watching her mother opening the door. A wide welcoming smile appeared on her mother's features, moving aside to let the figure at the door to step inside. As soon as she saw him, Hermione stopped breathing. The sight of him made her blood turn cold in an instant. His eyes connected with hers, warm and tender eyes blue eyes filled with melancholy 'Hello, Hermione.' The old man said like he was greeting an old friend, but it was the fondness in his voice that painfully twisted Hermione's gut._

_An invisible hand was squishing her heart as it was a foam ball. She cast a frantic glance at her mother 'Mom stay away from him!'_

_Her brows furrowed 'Why? Isn't he your headmaster?'_

_'__Do what I say. NOW!' she barked. _

_Her mother didn't have a chance to react further as Dumbledore shot a spell with such force that her body was launched across the living room like a rag doll. The shout of despair was muffled by the sound of a skull cracking against the wall, painting a wide line of red all the way to the floor. Hermione's feet attempted to sprint towards her mother's body, but as she looked down devil's snare started to grip her feet rapidly creeping onto her legs._

_Dumbledore turned his body and aimed his wand at her._

_'__I'm so sorry, my dear' said the man with regret and sorrow in his icy eyes. 'It is for the greater good…'_

_A jarring painful scream, enough to destroy her vocal cords, came out from her throat. 'I will kill you Dumbledore, I swear on my life, that the last thing you'll see will be me sending you straight to the void' By now the roots were gripping her neck and arms 'You bloody bastard!' Hermione roared, taking the last shallow gasps of air before the veiny roots closed her windpipe._

_Her eyes were instantaneously blinded by the intensive white light invading the room._

* * *

Hermione's muscles jolted up; her eyes opened instantly. The disoriented feeling lasted for a few seconds before recognizing her surroundings. She sat on the bed with her head resting between her hands. Sweat tickled a line from her temple running all the way to the tip of her nose, falling into her lap.

Her eyes were hazy. Far off. Slowly, she swallowed, her throat worked to bring her voice back. Or maybe to keep herself from vomiting.

A painful sob escaped her lips._ '… Mom' _The heels of her palms rested against her eyes, willing to hold the tears that wanted to spill.

She promised herself to never cry again. Instead, she vowed to take her grief and sorrow and turn them into strength and will for retribution.

The turmoil in her stomach, although lessened, still gripped her gut firmly. She knew she had nightmares. Often, she would wake up in the middle of the night with her heart running amok, but seldom the nightmare was lucid after waking up. This time though, she remembered every detail. Throwing herself on the pillows again, her mind began reeling all the details of the dream.

"I will kill you… I will kill you… I will kill you…'" She repeated like a mantra. Foggy brown eyes looked at the distance thinking about how she would murder him. Gathering all the pain he caused her and then multiply it with a Cruciatus curse, it'll melt his brain so fast that the Longbottoms won't hold a candle next to him. Multiple visions of bloody murder passed through her mind, the thoughts and images felt comforting as the fear in her body was slowly releasing its grip on her body.

The brunette opened her eyes again, staring at an invisible point on the ceiling for what it felt hours. Her thoughts were so muddled that she couldn't make sense of the abstract feelings and ideas that transited in her unconscious mind, but never becoming conscious, only lurking behind the curtains of her Ego.

Several minutes later, Hermione groaned out loud, her contemplative state interrupted by the unmistakable feeling of her imprint symptoms. Reluctantly, she stood up from the bed, taking hurried steps towards the small chest, where she kept her potions and ingredients. Her hands were fumbling between many flasks in search of the right vials. When she found them, she hastily took two recipients and brought them her lips, and drank until the dark brown liquid dribbled and slick over her chin. A wiping palm passed over her mouth and chin. It was better to take precautions by taking two bottles at a time, considering that from now on, she will see Bellatrix daily, unsure of how long this routine will last; she wasn't about to take her chances.

A piece of parchment and a potion bottle stood out on top of her desk. Hermione took quick notice of the granted item, then grabbed the note; it was Severus writing. **'You had a fever yesterday. Drink the draught, it'll help. We need to talk tonight. Be available. -S.S.' **

_"__Fever?… What happened?" _Hermione blinked in confusion.

It was at that moment when the brunette realized she couldn't recall any memory of how did she end up in her room. The girl's first reaction was to look around, searching for a clue that could tell her the sudden lack of memory. She would be quick to blame it on alcohol if yesterday was full moon. But that wasn't the case, her werewolf transformation wasn't due for another 20 days. Or, 19?

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, in an effort to understand what happened. Her eyebrows furrowed as short moments of their conversation flashed in front of her.

'… _Mudbloods are not that bright and capable as they believe they are. You are very disappointing, Granger...'_

her lips opened, lost in the perplexity of her shallow memories. "I attacked him…"

More images came flooding. Her eyes darted wildly with each passing second, the past events simmering through her consciousness.

Yesterday, she was different; full of anger, so much that her heart pounded hard against her ribcage as her pulse pressed outward, jerking her veins from within. Her body had moved and acted with only one goal in mind: To kill him.

It was like someone else took control of her body.

A small twinge of fear pierced across her lungs, right after Hermione took in the last memory. Desperate hands fumbled to remove her nightgown, almost ripping it in the process when the bottoms wouldn't come out. Discarding the garment on the floor, the girl quickly approached to the Cheval mirror.

Anxious eyes looked for any trace of injury on her breasts and abdomen. Her hands caressed her body looking for any protuberances or abnormalities. She turned around to inspect her back and ribs, the only scars were the ones that Narcissa treated before, and the one in her right shoulder. The rest of her skin felt soft to the touch, nothing seemed changed.

The breath she had been holding for a long minute finally escaped from her lungs. Maybe she dreamed of it then?

Her eyes became wider in realization. The robes.

If that happened, her robes might show it. She scanned at several surfaces around the room. It took her less than two seconds to see muddied robes folded on a sofa. She rushed towards the pile of clothes, with unsarcastically desperation unfolded them. The clothes were tattered, cakes of dirt and dried grass were stuck on them. The material appeared to be beyond repair.

Hermione stood frozen, watching the evidence of yesterday's events, awe and wonder painted all over her features; her fingers went through the long slits on her robes and shirt.

"… 34...36...40… 45… 50." 50 cuts all over her torso. Impressive. Deathly

The early twinges of anxiety had died within her body now that she had the answer. "I tried to kill him… And the bastard sliced me." She murmured.

She sat on the sofa, enjoying briefly the sensation of the velvety material on her naked back and thighs, her body was slowly sinking further into the cushions. Brown eyes slightly narrowed and most of the muscles in her face tensed up; it was the same look she always had when trying to read a highly complex book. A mix between speculative and analytic; it was the biggest indicative from an outsider's perception that her mind was running at full speed.

A few minutes had passed when a self-contained snort escaped from her lips, the short dry sound quickly morphed into an increasingly joyful laugh.

Suddenly morphed into a burst of hysterical barks. Her shoulders shook and her abdomen expanded and contracted at the effort. The thunderous sound vibrated within the vials and glass recipients on the tea table. As her stomach started to ache, the laugh slowly died down. Tears that threatened to run along her cheeks were dried out with her fingers.

"I was so mad, that I wanted to kill him!…" She said, awestruck. Things between them escalated so fast that she couldn't even find a justifiable reason to explain why she did what she did. But whatever was her drive behind it, Hermione couldn't care less, her mind was occupied by other thoughts.

There was excitement at the revelation of this experience had brought to her. Ever since she became a werewolf for every duel she had, it gave her insight and knowledge for the next duel. This was the type of evidence she needed to prove to herself that she was getting stronger every time. To have the pleasure to fight Severus with her full strength, and have him work for her defeat it provided her with new knowledge about the man's capabilities and reaction time.

Now she had experienced a taste of Severus's method, the next time, if there was one, she won't go down so easily.

And who knew? There could be next time. She didn't trust him, not yet. For all she knew, the man could switch loyalties in the blink of an eye. It would be reckless of her to not be wary of him

However, Hermione wasn't blind to his recent attitude. Considering what they talked about yesterday, Severus seemed to worry, in his own way, about her. Eyeing the tattered robes, she would describe it as a twisted version of what someone would normally do when people cared for others.

But for how long?

_'__The implications of following this path will have devastating consequences, Severus is right about that little part.' _Hermione replayed the last parts of the conversation they shared.

Was she willing to kill innocent people? No, she wasn't. But like many things, to Hermione, it was all a matter of semantics. Define innocent. Are they participants of the war? If someone was willing to kill for what they believe was the right cause, it didn't make them innocent.

A half-smile formed on her lips. The sense of pride came to her as she relived the conversation between them. Hermione was amazed at how easily the words rolled out of her tongue as if she was truly living with the guilt and anxiety of not knowing what to do.

She lied to him. At least, on one specific part.

The thing she thought about after and before closing her eyes, were the memories of her parents and their time together, or the fantasy of Dumbledore dead at her feet.

Nothing else.

She hasn't spared a single well-formed thought about her friends for what it felt a very long time. Neither has she been pondering over the consequences that this war will bring her. The brunette didn't want to torment herself with unrealistic thoughts of a possible peaceful solution. There was none of that.

The Lord wanted Harry dead, and there was nothing she could do about it without risking her own life or her goal.

Snape was right once again, she only had tunnel-vision for her need for retribution.

"Nothing escapes him…" Just like a good Slytherin, she supposed.

Bloody snakes.

Which all this, brought her again to her first question. Could she trust the man? The short answer was no. Severus hadn't made clear what he stood for and with whom.

Time would tell whether they ended up on the same side of the war.

She took a glance at the watch; it was still early. A long bubble bath before breakfast sounded fantastic. Maybe she'll even finish the Maledictuses book while she dips her body in hot water.

Her eyes drifted to cast one last look to the tattered robe. She loved that robe. The dark grey color suit her well. The girl did a mental note to send the elves to buy a new model.

Hermione approached the bathroom door when a sudden thought started to take shape.

The last thing she remembers was wearing those robes. Then, how did she arrive here? And more importantly who put her into her sleeping robes?

While removing the last garment of her body, thoughts that Snape might have done it sprung in her mind. If not him, who else?

Maybe tonight she'll just greet him with the killing curse, Hermione weighted.

* * *

Thick grey clouds loomed up in the sky, stating that the rainy season was far from over. The wind blew among the tall trees behind the Malfoy mansion, falling leaves were carried and placed carefully on the ground by the soft breeze.

Hermione crossed the low step that divided the end of the mansion's quartzite floor and the beginning of the garden. Unlike the rest of the mansion's gardens, this place had seen better days. Since the Death Eaters had been using it as a training grounds, the place was in disarray. Whenever they felt the necessity to hone their dueling skills or to settle a score, they came to this place. Hermione avoided to approach the place more often than not, she didn't wish to interact with the sometimes-undesirable visitors.

The brunette looked around the clearing, large extensions of grass and bushes were burned. Although it was an open space, Hermione could still detect the lingering smell of something earthly, almost close to the smell of petrichor but not quite right.

What probably used to be classy statues, now they were basically pulverized, only chunks of stone remained left on the ground. The place seemed empty, with no signs of the obnoxious black-haired woman. She took her watch out of her pocket; it was midday already. Either the woman was busy, or more likely, she was deliberately late with the only purpose to annoy her.

Hermione, being one to never stay still, took the woman's tardiness as an opportunity to warm up.

She raised her wand in the air, in a heartbeat, several small stones levitated from the ground. With a delicate inclination of her wrist, the stones lined up one next to the other. One trust to the left and Hermione had the stones dancing at her will.

Rocks rubbed against each other —making clicking sounds like marbles— riding across the clearing as her spell curled and coalesced around her body making different serpentine motions as a gymnast would do with a streamer. She moved it up, down and all around her body, drawing different shapes in the air.

Her face tightened in deep concentration, ready to take the next step. Carefully, she lifted her left hand matching the height of the right one. She gazed at the ground and as her left hand extended, small stones commenced to lightly vibrate, with a snatching motion, more stones gravitated towards the already lined up rocks.

Now, the rocky streamer was twice as large. With the tip of her boots, Hermione painted half-moons and full circles on the ground, while her magic made the stones dance around her. To the untrained eye, watching those half turns, feet being dragged, and doing spirals with the levitating rocks as if she was dancing, it was easy to assume that the girl was just playing.

In reality, she was gaining momentum.

Satisfied with the velocity she had reached, Hermione turned abruptly and with a sharp thrust forward, the stones were expulsed at an incredible speed towards the trees past the clearing. The firsts stones furiously penetrated the wood with ease, just like bullets. The strength of the spell quickly lost its strength, making most of the stones to fall on the ground before reaching their destination.

Curious to see how much damage she had achieved, the brunette approached the targeted tree. Inquisitive eyes set on the hole, surveying its radius. The brunette placed the wand inside the hole; it went half before meeting what was surely the stones lined up.

Half wand deep. Enough to hurt someone seriously, but highly in practical in a fight if it takes that much time to prepare. That is why she'd only used as a warm-up, it helped her practice finesse, multitasking, and strength all at once.

Hermione noticed something else on the tree; it seemed that someone had used the trees as targets too. Her eyes narrowed with interest at the unusual carvings on the bark. There were deep slashes on many of them, wider and deeper. She ran her hand all over the carvings, her little finger could enter between the gaps. There wasn't any spell she could think about to fit the description that can do this type of damage. It was probably a multiple slashing spell cast with such precision that hit on the same place over and over again.

No, that didn't sound right. Slashing spells rely too much on wand movement and strength. Every time it is cast, it leaves a different cut and angle.

Well, whatever it was, seemed very powerful.

"Ossum Incido."

Hermione slowly turned her back to see Bellatrix a few steps behind her, her arms were crossed and her weight rested on one foot. The brunette wondered how long has she been standing there, looking at her. How weird it was that she didn't hear coming. After all, the gravel was loud when someone stepped on it, especially with her boots.

Did she apparate then? No, she would have heard it.

How strange…

"What is that?" The girl asked, not fully understanding what the woman meant.

"The marks you are so suddenly so enamored with, are from my spell Ossum Incido. I created it," Pride flickered in the obsidian eyes while contemplating the lines across the bark. "It still needs to be perfected." She added, her nose trusting in the air. "But I already have the baseline, I just need to come up with a formula to have better control over it."

"Why not just maximize the effect of the slashing spell?" Hermione asked, curiosity clear in her tone.

"Because is not meant to break the skin." A half-smile formed on her lips; the effect would be chilling if Hermione wasn't familiar with Bellatrix's moods.

"Then what?" The girl questioned.

Bellatrix stepped closer to another tree, not before sparing a glance at the girl. Hermione, understanding that the woman wanted to show her something, stepped closer too. "It was created to cut bone, without breaking the skin." Slim fingers pushed into the bark, penetrating it. The fingers ran from top to bottom scrapping the bark, leaving the hollow gaps visible for the girl to see.

_'__Oh wow' _Her eyebrow rose, impressed._ 'Let not be said that Bellatrix isn't creative when it comes to torture'_

Hermione realized how often she forgot that the woman before her was regarded as one of the most brilliant witches in the wizardry community. How was that Dumbledore called it? The most brilliant witch of her generation? A title that the Headmaster was certain Hermione held nowadays.

"Do you have a counterspell?"

"Now why would I need that?" The dark witch bobbed her head, displaying annoyance at what she seemed to think was a stupid question.

"You want it for torture, right?" Bellatrix's incisive eyes looked at her expectantly. "If a broken bone is left untreated for a certain extension of time, blood clots will form in the blood vessels, which becomes fatal. If you are done with your questioning, then it is fine, they'll die. But if you are not…"

"How much time before that happens?" Bellatrix's features became serious, almost thoughtful. Hermione's eyebrows almost reached her hairline as she realized this was the first time the woman was actually listening and considering her words. Perhaps, this could be addressed as a small victory.

"Depends on where you make the cut." She explained. "For example, the hip bone is actually one of the most delicate parts besides the spine, there are too many arteries running there. I'll prefer to make the cut at the arms and lower legs. That is if you want them to live longer. You don't only have to consider that, but also if the gap is too wide, you would have removed a large piece of bone, which could be very hard to reconstruct with a counterspell or even worse cut an important vein and you'll kill them immediately."

Bellatrix wasn't looking at her anymore, but the fact that she hadn't opened her mouth to speak a snide remark, told Hermione enough.

Brown eyes observed the dark witch being lost in her own mind, the woman's eyes darting to different markings on the tree.

Besides from her rare mellowed attitude, there was something different in Bellatrix today, Hermione perceived. She just couldn't tell what was exactly.

"Can I ask what principle are you using for your casting?" Hermione asked, finally breaking the silence between them. Something she immediately regretted when Bellatrix gave her patented annoyed look.

"The 'None of your business principle'." The dark witch drawled. "You are a little know-it-all, aren't you?" Without a logical reason, Bellatrix sounded as if she just ruined her spell or her entire day in general.

Hermione internally rolled her eyes at the childish reply,_ 'No, no victory at all' _seeing how the woman was going back to her normal self.

Bellatrix chose that second to face the girl, her features quickly morphed from annoyance to disgust. "And what are you supposed to be wearing?"

"Clothes." The girl said innocently, perfectly understanding what was she referring to.

"Those are muggle clothes, stupid girl. Are you trying to insult the Lord?" Her tone adopted a sharp edge.

"No," The girl said, "But I don't think our Lord would mind." shrugging her shoulders. "He has seen me wearing muggle clothes before; never said anything." Her reply was crafted to be as not nonchalant, knowing it would stir the woman.

Bellatrix's scowl deepened, crossing her arms over her chest. "Tell me, mudblood. Why suddenly he is so interested in you?" The disdain in her tone was present as much as the hate. However, Hermione could detect the question had a layer of curiosity under tangible feelings.

_'__Why suddenly he is so interested in me, that he has ordered her Lieutenant to train me?'_ That was the correct question Bellatrix wanted to ask, or so Hermione thought. The fact that the woman was being kept in the dark about her presence made her uneasy. Voldemort promised not to reveal her connection to Bellatrix, that was a verbal agreement they had. Everything else wasn't needed to be kept a secret. And yet, the man had shared nothing about her with his most trusted Lieutenant.

_'__Why would that be?'_

He may be planning something; one thought that Hermione has been pondering more often.

_'Could this be related to why he is making me interact with Bellatrix?'_

"I really don't know, Lestrange." She spoke firmly, trying to convey the utmost sincerity with her words. Hermione knew she wasn't the only one who could detect lies, Bellatrix had proved to have a more refined radar that she possessed. "I have been completing the tasks he gave me, just like you do. I really don't know what else to tell you."

For a few moments, they only stare at each other. Onyx eyes studied the center of her face as if she was somehow holding more answers to unasked questions.

Hermione paid attention to Bellatrix's body language; her usual aggressive demeanor was still very much there. Yet, the snarl had decreased, for the outsider's perspective, this looked more like a small fight between acquaintances than the actual hate that has been simmering between them since day one.

It didn't change anything because, in the end, it meant nothing; the brunette despised the woman, and that was it. However, if they could keep things slightly civil, she was willing to do the sacrifice. Merlin knows it'll save her a lot of energy and time.

Bellatrix must have seen the truth on the girl's face, considering how her own features relaxed, looking less intimidating, rather her red lips curled into a sarcastic little smile. "Is he fucking you?"

Hermione's first reaction was to release a burst of laughter. "Merlin, no!" She sounded between incredulous and slightly appalled "Not to my knowledge, no" Her smiled widened at the sight of the woman's acid expression. She was probably disappointed that she didn't get the desired effect on her, which was sure to rile her up.

_'__How bizarre can this get?!'_ Hermione wondered if she was the only one who thought this interaction was just plain abnormal. This is not how people normally behave, but again perhaps herself and Bellatrix fell into a new category all of her own.

Aware that they have been extending this long enough, Hermione took out her wand "How about we focus on why we are here instead of you fixating in my wardrobe tastes?"

At this, Bellatrix reacted with complacency "Eager, aren't you, little mudblood? Very well."

Bellatrix turned around and took short steps towards the center of the clearing, Hermione wondered for a second if they would duel. What if she wasn't able to attack her? despite having drunk a double dose. Too late to step back; she was about to find out.

Right after the brunette took the first step forwards, Bellatrix abruptly turned around with her wand aiming at the girl. Giving almost no chance to react, the older woman cast the first spell. Hermione conjured a protection spell effectively, all by reflex. What she failed to do, was conjured it thick enough. Her barrier was quickly shattered by Bellatrix's red-lighted spell. The force sent her back a couple of paces. She tried to recover her balance, lowering her guard for a moment. The next swift of woman's wand was to cast binding ropes that avidly sneaked and tightened around the girl's legs and torso.

The girl finally lost her balance, falling on her side. "What are you doing?!" Her voice tried to come out as angry, but the high-pitched sound gave away more disbelief than anything else.

Her heart rate increased as Bellatrix approached her, thinking all the things that could go wrong in the next seconds. She struggled with the binds on her body, trying to release at least one arm, and reach for her wand lying a few centimeters from her.

The dark witch put her wand in her holster as she approached the girl, with a wave of her hand she caught the upcoming wand. She clicked her tongue, lightly shaking her head in mocking disappointment. "Pathetic. I have seen elves wielding magic better than you." She said, playing with Hermione's wand between her fingers.

"What are you playing at, Lestrange?" Hermione didn't want to imagine how defeated she must look right now, struggling on the ground, trying and failing miserably on giving a dignified stance.

With a cruel smile drawing on her face, it was quite evident that the woman enjoying the very obvious distressed girl. "If you ever get caught, like right now, you have to learn how to escape, that's why you must know how to swing your finger." The dark witch took the brunette's hand out of the binds, giving her enough freedom to move.

"Wandless magic? While being tied? You must be joking!" Feeling outraged at the mere suggestion.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Her features became darkly mischievous. "I agreed to teach you, that means you play by my rules and methods."

"If you said that I'm so terrible at magic, why would you ask me to do something almost impossible?" Hermione glowered.

Bellatrix snickered. "Fishing for compliments, mudblood?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Not having a clue of what the woman was talking about.

"Escape from Incarcerous, you should know the counterspell, don't you?" the woman said, fully ignoring her question. Using Hermione's wand, Bellatrix levitated the girl. "And then Arresto Momentum or you might as well break some bones with the fall." Her legs kicked in the air, a useless attempt to somehow help herself fight against the levitation spell. The woman continued lifting her in the air, then tied her up in one of the tree's high branches.

"What?!" Hermione screeching, not believing what she was asking of her. "That's not! How the hel-…" But she was interrupted by the unexpected explosion on the nearby branches, caused by Bellatrix. Leaves and pieces of wood fell on her hair.

Bellatrix cackled loudly at the stunned expression of the girl's face "Do you want to add a silence spell as well, so it can be non-verbal and wandless magic?"

Hermione clenched her jaw almost instantly; she knew the woman would make good on her promise if she as much were to open her mouth.

"That's what I thought, good mudblood." Bellatrix gave a patronizing look, with a smile hadn't wavered in the slightest "Don't worry, I'll give it back once you are down. Ta-ta"

Bellatrix walked away, quickly disappearing from Hermione's hateful gaze. The brunette made one last attempt to release herself from the ropes by wiggling and shaking, but all attempts were futile.

Furious didn't even begin to describe how she felt right now. She wished more than ever that she could hurt Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione cursed her wolf a thousand times more for imprinting on that _thing._

* * *

Gawain Robards was probably having the worst days of his entire career as Head Auror. The Minister, Cornelius Fudge had been breathing down his neck since The Dark Lord has been officially recognized as a real threat. But these days the pressure on him has worsened, all because the incident of the northern islands has reached the ears of all citizens of wizardry Britain. Giving the heinous nature of the murders and some leaked information published none by other than Rita Skeeter, Fudge had had he and his investigation team working non-stop for the last 48 hours to get answers.

The fact that the investigation team doesn't have concise results so far, his high officials are urging them to find an answer as soon as possible, and let's not forget about the Newspapers, the leeches are all over him from the moment he leaves his house all the way to the Ministry. All this added several layers of tension on his shoulders. At this rate, the man was on the verge to return to his alcoholism.

But today's morning was the cherry on top. His wife threatened him with divorce and taking their son with her. Her reason behind it: he wasn't at home anymore.

Sometimes, the only peace he could find was when he slept, which he hasn't been doing much of that, actually.

His heavy steps stopped in front of the investigation office, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened the door.

"Williams, please tell me there is good news." Although the voice sounded commanding and authoritative, there was a faint undertone of begging behind it.

A red-haired woman, who was taking notes next to a scorched body on the table, stood up addressing her boss. "Actually, we do, sir. We have finally managed to identify the burned body."

"Burned? I'll say calcinated." The man behind her muttered, he had a tidy scholarly bearing, only emphasized by thick-framed lenses he pushed further into his nose, while he was looking at what appeared to be several hairs.

"He is the newest member." The woman said, feeling the necessity to explain. "Anyway, by the collection of hairs we took from the cabin's bed, we used a Polyjuice potion and the body that took form was from Igor Karkaroff. We matched the size and height of the body here." She reached for her parchment containing all her notes and gave it to his boss. "Is definitely him."

"Are you sure?" The man was speedily reading all her analysis.

"Yes, is all there."

For several moments the man only stared at the body, analyzing the reveal. However, the woman misunderstood his silence by confusion. "He is an ex-death eat-"

"I know damn well who he is!" He interrupted harshly. "I interrogate him myself at the end of the first war."

The woman closed her mouth, looking embarrassed.

"This indicates that our suspicions may be accurate. This was the work of death eaters, after all."

She nodded "I believe so, sir."

Although it was a step in the right direction, the weight on his shoulders became heavier. Cornelius was about to have a shit show on his hands, and who would be sent to clean it up but himself.

"What took you so long? And where are the others?"

"I'm sorry, sir but we had to separate hundreds of hairs. Most of them belonged to animals." She sounded apologetic. "Sometimes what we considered was a human hair happened to be wolf's fur or wildcats. And the rest of the team went home to sleep, they are bound to come around after midday." Then she made an awkward pause "They hadn't slept in the last 40 hours."

He stayed silent for a moment, although he felt highly frustrated, he could recognize that his subordinate was right. He needed his team with a clear mind, now more than ever.

Even though the search for the perpetrator or most likely perpetrators had narrowed significantly, that didn't bring him any sort of reassurance. He knew it would be very unlikely to catch whoever did this. After all, Dead Eaters were the elite group from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Hard to catch one, less making them speak.

"Wait, wait I think I have something." The man in the back spoke excitedly, raising his hand as if he was still talking to a teacher instead of his boss.

"What is it?" Williams asked, taking large steps towards his table.

"Hairs. Bring a Polyjuice potion, wait no bring two." The woman walked towards the cabinet further in the back. The boy pushed his glasses up his nose once again, the tiredness of his eyes was diminished by the excitement flashing on them. The Head Auror gave him a questioning look, indicating him to further explain himself.

"When we collected the bodies, we picked up all the discarded items on the floor, we thought this piece belonged to any of the victims." signaling at the dark fabric "But this is a very expensive cloak, handmade crafted; you cannot find those in the north. The only shops supplying this type of fabric are in London. So, I examined it and found two different types of hair, none of them belonging to any of the victims. They are long."

Williams put the two vials on the table. "Ready?" The intern noted and with extreme cautiousness, with a small pair of tweezers he placed two different strands of hair in each bottle.

Robards watched them expectantly, his posture was rigid, the stiffness on his face and his fist closed spoke volumes of the present apprehensiveness in his body.

"I know I should have asked you before, but are you completely sure these are human hairs?" The woman asked wearily.

"Absolutely!" The intern nodded fervently.

Each one took a vial and gulped down; the effects started to show almost immediately.

Robards saw the morphing of the bodies with anxiety creeping further into his body, his eyes were fixed on Williams which body started to change faster than her college. His face hardened, understanding where was this going when he saw the first glimpses of curled black hair replacing the red hair of the woman in front.

The first reaction that anyone with a sense of justice must have when having Bellatrix Lestrange in front, was to cast the killing curse at her, no questions asked. At least, that's what Robards had always thought. To see her in front of him almost made him automatically want to reach for his wand.

Williams, still ignorant of her appearance, she turned around to see the other figure next to her. The intern was gaping at her, with eyes wide open in between fear and amazement. She mouthed a silent _'What?' _but her partner couldn't get out of his bewilderment.

The woman took in the new intern's appearance, she blinked several times, eyes narrowing a little. "You look familiar, I think I have seen that face before."

"You saw her in the newspapers," Gawain spoke, automatically. His eyes darting from one figure to the other.

Faux Bellatrix clasped her fingers, finally recognizing the person. "Yes!... But I thought she was dead." The woman said, slightly puzzled.

"Apparently, she came back to the world of the living." The Head Auror said, he seemed to be nonplussed by this new revelation. With both hands he rubbed his face, feeling that from here on out, things were just going to go south before they could go up.

"Maybe she wasn't dead but kidnapped?" She hypothesized.

Robards didn't believe that for a second, they didn't know Lestrange as he did. The woman was a psychopath, she wouldn't leave anyone alive if there wasn't a good reason. No, a hunch told him that this ran deeper than he could ever guess right now. He needed to research more before attempt to speculate. "Bring me every file, every paper you can find about her, and send it to my desk." He didn't wait for a reply, turning his body around he walked towards his private office. "This case is getting more complicated by the second." Silently praying they could withhold the information a little longer before the newspapers got wind of their recent discoveries.


	11. Chapter 11

The abrupt sensation of someone trying to trespass the inner borders of her locked mind interrupted Hermione's reading. Her eyes strayed from the book in her hands, searching for the undesirable who wished to invade her consciousness.

What she expected to be a person, happened to be a long snake coiled close to the divan where she was resting. Nagini rose her head almost at the same level as the girl's head. The snake stared at her with her bright yellow eyes. If Hermione didn't know any better, she would think that Nagini was looking at her with hungry eyes.

Sometimes the reptile was very intimidating probably without even wanting to be.

Hermione lowered her Occlumency shields, letting the raspy voice invade her mind._ "I've heard she is been training you." _

That opening line twisted the girl's guts. She was not in the mood for the snake's choice of topic. "Really? You heard?" Her voice was full of skepticism. "Or someone told you? And by someone, I mean our Lord."

Unfazed by the bitter undertone, Nagini stayed silent and unmoving. Her sight didn't dart from the brunette's own eyes. She could hardly guess what the snake was thinking in these moments. It is one thing to read a person's facial expressions, but to read the non-existent facial expressions of a snake, well, that was way beyond her abilities.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Were you aware of it? In the library, when you wished me good luck. Did you know our Lord was going to do this?"

The only response she got was Nagini's tongue coming out her mouth in short intervals, tasting and smelling the invisible traces of nothing and everything in the room.

Hermione hated it when she did that, as she understood very well what it meant.

Her eyes drifted along the snake's body watching the tail rubbing against the rest of her own figure. Raspy sounds like sandpaper being rubbed were the only noises between them. Nagini was shedding small patches of dead skin on the violet plumose carpet. Her thoughts went to Narcissa, who will surely _love_ the little gifts the snake was leaving on it, she would probably pop a vein before ordering the elves to clean it immediately.

The girl sighed tiredly, rising up from the divan. She took a few steps away from Nagini, sensing the need to put some distance between them. Her earlier sour mood began creeping once again, nagging the back of her head.

She spared another glance at the snake, before reaching her own conclusions. "I'll take your silence as confirmation, then. Tell me, what is he planning?"

_"…__Planning?" _Nagini bobbed her head slightly.

"You know very well what I'm talking about." Her voice came out very demanding.

_"__I don't know…" _Suddenly sounding bored and disinterested. Which only served to irk Hermione further.

The brunette released a humorless chuckle "And if you did know, you wouldn't tell me anyway, isn't it right?"

_"__That's correct." _The snake asserted with a patronizing tone.

Hands gripped the book, pushing in different directions, if she had the strength she would've ripped apart. "Not even because I'm helping you…" she muttered with resentment in her voice.

The moment the words left her mouth Nagini hissed loudly, proving that she had heard clearly. Hermione saw how the whole body tensed, coiling in a defensive position.  
Hands gripped the book tightly and shoulders squared, feeling her own body tensed up as the snake's maw fully opened, displaying a set of sharp fangs and small but equally deathly razor teeth filling her mouth.

_"__Is a debt you must repay. You promised it!"_ Although the volume in Hermione's mind wasn't as loud as the earlier hiss, it still sounded equally dangerous as the sight before her.

"You already made that very clear." Hermione spat, gazing defiantly into the usually yellow, now blackened by the dilatation of her pupils.

_"__Then don't ask stupid questions!" _Nagini responded in the same tone. _"You know better than that, Hermione!" _

Hermione bit her cheek, her eyes drifted to the floor, realizing that Nagini had never called her by name before. Her bitter mood was quickly replaced by waves of shame and contempt; she couldn't help but feel like a scolded child. Of course, she knew better than that, Nagini would never betray Voldemort's secrets or intentions. The snake had made that very clear since the very beginning. Was she so bitter right now, that she happened to forget her common sense?

Not knowing what to say, or likely her pride not letting her calm down and apologize, the girl turned around, then approached at the embedded wooden bookcase in the wall and placed the book from where she found it. Her fingers lingered on the shelf; brown eyes were fixed on the different almost black patterns on wood. As if suddenly the wood grain was highly interesting and worth examining.

"Why are you here?" the girl asked, looking back over her shoulder.

_"__I was already here." _She said, climbing over the divan where Hermione was a minute ago resting._ "Is it wrong to wish to make conversation with you?" _Nagini closed her eyes and rolled her body over what was the warmest spot.

_'__Of course, she was' _Hermione remembered that Nagini likes to take her naps in usually empty rooms, which made her wonder if the snake was the only one frequenting this room. They were in an entertainment room of sorts; books, several chessboards, and a large alcohol cabinet were the main themes for diversion. Today was the first time Hermione set foot in here, motivated by the very rare mood to roam across the mansion instead of just staying in her room or the Malfoy's library on the second floor as usual.

_"__I could taste your grouchiness since you entered the room time ago." _Nagini pointed out, her tongue leaving her mouth more often and faster than she usually does. A reminder that she could sense better than any human._ "What got you in such a bad mood?"_

She hesitated for a few seconds, before seeing no sense in avoiding the question, Nagini already knew, she just wanted confirmation. "Who, rather than what. And you know very well who am I talking about."

_"__Your mate."_

A snarl formed on the girl's lips "DO NOT-" she yelled; her hands tightly clutched the edges of the bookcase. She was aware that the anger mixed with the emotions of minutes ago was getting the best of her once again, but to hear _that_ title right now was so appalling, to say the least. She closed her eyes, willing to push down the strong emotions that were threatening to rise up to her throat.

"She is not my bloody…" Her tongue twisted at the idea to pronounce that hideous word right now "Whatever, just don't call her like that."

_"__Denying it won't make untrue what is already a fact." _

"Not now, please."

_"__What did she do?" _Her voice was unusually kind. Hermione recognized this was Nagini's way of offering the olive branch and erase the tension that had formed between them moments ago.

"She left me hanging from a branch for 3 hours…"

* * *

2 hours had passed since Bellatrix left her hanging on the branch. So far, Hermione hadn't managed to do anything but learn how to swing properly like a pendulum, in hopes that the binds would wear off. Which, in retrospect, that wasn't very wise. The fall from this distance could be at the very least extremely painful.

How humiliating was all this, Hermione thought as the vile rose through her esophagus one more time. Even though her earlier fits of anger had considerably decreased, — at least enough to stop seething and cursing the dark witch— all her mind was able to do was to repeat their 5 seconds fight in slow motion.

After she placed all the blame and hate on Bellatrix in the first hour, by the second hour she started blaming herself for not being smart enough to foresee Bellatrix's attack, not strong enough to put a better shield and not quick enough to have repelled her next spell. In part, it was her fault she ended up like this.

_'__Guess fighting Severus is not enough to beat Bellatrix, uh?' _The same ugly voice — the one that blamed her for all this— spoke again in the far corner of her consciousness.

"No, I guess not." She uttered, with no one to hear but perhaps the insects resting on the branches, not that she could see any of them. But considering her recent luck, it wouldn't be a surprise if suddenly the caterpillars or cicadas started to confuse her with another extension of the tree.

_'__Only the most disciplined and highly trained magic practitioners can achieve such a feat.' _Her mind parroted the last line from the preface of the book, Introduction to Wandless Magic.

Wandless magic was all-consuming and highly difficult to achieve every time a new spell was being cast for the first time. Two spells in one go would take a tremendous effort on her part.

_ '__Bellatrix had set me up to fail.' _

Hermione turned around to see how thick was the branch was, maybe she could cast a Diffindo in case Relashio didn't work, after all, it was easier to cast Diffindo considering that it didn't require deep concentration and could work with a little amount of magic. As expected, the branch was quite thick. Diffindo wouldn't do

While she was considering alternative options, brown eyes gazed at the dark large shape that just sat between the many branches a few meters from herself, she could barely see the dark figure because the leaves blocked her sight. She squinted at what seemed to be a bird, or maybe an eagle as it was too big to be a simple bird.

_'__Well, at least I have company…' _Watching the large feathered animal grooming its wings. '_Wow, that sounded sad and pathetic.' _

A few seconds more passed by, and the next, the owl chose to fly again, leaving the place behind.

"Well, good riddance to you too." The girl said, watching the bird crossing past the mansion's roof.

_'__Anytime now.' _

If she wanted to get out of this predicament she just needed to stop feeling. To let her mind be emptied. However, every time she closed her eyes, all Hermione could see was Bellatrix laughing at her, and a renewed wave of anger manifested in the pit of her stomach.

Fantasies of all the many ways she could torture Bellatrix, that was the balm for her inner turmoil born from humiliation.

_'__If I don't do it. She wins' _

Hermione closed her eyes, the first thing to do was to breathe deeply as she willed her muscles to slowly relax. To leave the built tension slowly drain from her body and only focus on the sensations that surrounded her. Ropes tightening around her figure, bruising her skin. The sensation of being suspended in the air, feeling the gravity pull in her loose limps and hair. The clean air filling her lungs, expanding her ribcage, and the robes pressing further against her torso and arms.

_'__If a spell proves to be impossible to cast, is because you are either too weak or too stupid. You don't seem to be either, Miss Granger. All you need is to have a clear mind. You must feel the magic running from your core and extending to your limps, harness it all in your right arm, then to your hand and shoot…-' _She remembers clearly when Voldemort did teach her this method. How odd, Hermione thought, that a dark magic practitioner had a technique that needed inner calm to cast the nastiest and destructive spells he could think of.

She took another deep breath, her nostrils could sense the humidity in the air, it wouldn't be long before it rains.

More reason to leave this place soon.

Without losing her achieved relaxed state, her body reclined left to right, till she was swinging to gain enough speed.

Then it came the magic. The electric pulse running through every mage whether they were conscious of it or not, it was always there. Magic was buzzing under her skin, sometimes it itched to get out. Another advantage of having lycanthropy in her blood, it made magic, more alive, electrifying, sharper. It was easier to become aware of that buzzing energy running in her veins and in her muscles. Tingling from the tip of her toes to the nape of her nape, rising up all the small baby hairs on her skin.

"Arresto Momentum" She shouted.

But nothing happened.

It wasn't enough.

Her limbs kept buzzing with energy, she could feel it now more than before. It was there almost tangible tingling in her feet soles, all she had to do was to bend the magic to her will. She dragged the power through her legs, feeling how it was being absorbed by her coccyx rushing along her spine making its way upwards, like a lizard climbing rapidly on her skin, and finally concentrating all of it within her right arm.

She opened her eyes and shouted again "Arresto Momentum!"

The movement stopped.

Yet, her moment of victory was short-lived as it only lasted half a second. It just wasn't good enough, if the spell was cast either too early or too late it could prove to be fatal.

So, she tried again, again and again.

But after many multiple intents, she failed to maintain the spell for more than one second.

Frustrated by her lack of progress and the increasing chaffing on her skin due to the ropes. Hermione was willing to let it play it out and see what would happen. She was about to practice Relashio and hopefully be finally liberated and fall on the ground when she heard the distinctive noise of someone stepping on dried leaves. The brunette stayed silent and motionless, waiting to see who was coming.

She could clearly hear the voices of two men approaching her way.

"Don't worry, your mother and I will do anything in our power to help you complete your task." Hermione recognized the man's voice, it was Lucius. Two blonde heads started to show under the trees, both dressed in robes. Hermione could barely see their faces from this angle, but the man sounded so exhausted. And if she wasn't mistaken, the black robes meant that they were about to or they already had a meeting with Voldemort. The conversation led Hermione to believe the latter.

"Thank you, father," Draco said, although he didn't sound as stressed as his father, there was a concerned tone on his voice. "Do you think I'll receive the mark before going to Hogwarts?"

"I believe so, yes." Hermione had thought that the man would be ecstatic to see his son following his steps, instead, there was a slight small waver in his voice.

"Maybe after that, Mother would be willing to forgive you."

Lucius released a hollow laugh, to Hermione's ears it sounded more of a sob caught in his throat than anything else. "I don't think your mother will be forgiving me anytime soon, Draco."

"But it wasn't all your fault, why isn't our Lord punishing the rest of them…"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the nagging tone of Draco's, she didn't fully understand what was going on, but what little she has heard till now, it was something that she could not bring herself to care.

"…I just don't understand why he had to bring all these people to our home"

Hermione closed her eyes again, willing her mind to focus on her body, and to shut any external noise. She concentrated on the next memory.

_ '…__-However, there is another way. I can see that having a clear mind won't always work for you, isn't it dear? Hate is the answer to those times. Keep in mind, hate cannot exist without anger, but anger can exist without hate. Be sure that what you feel is hate, as for anger is just a weak, fleeting emotion.' _

_'__A dangerous source for casting my Lord.'_

_'__It is indeed, quite addictive too. But as you already must know, hate has always been the main source for the creation of the darkest curses in existence.'_

Hermione had read multiple times the warnings against this method of casting. As the emotion itself could easily deteriorate their minds, driving them crazy. Hate and dark magic were a powerful combination, even Dark Wizards as Voldemort used it very seldomly.

Maybe only this time, Hermione told herself ready to mentally prepare. She had the perfect picture in her head, the one that would produce such strong emotion and something more in her body.

Hate, such a consuming feeling. It was like an abrasive piece cloth that every brush left deep scratches on the surface, cleaning her soul from everything that was mind and sense. Yes, she could feel it running through her veins. It tingled faster, stronger, thrumming all over her body.

"…And let's not even mention the mudblood."

_'__There!'_

"Relashio!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, the ropes vanished into thin air, suddenly her body felt very light.

She waved her finger again "Arresto Momentum!" She stopped in midair, long enough for her to realize that she cast it too early and now the fall albeit less dangerous, it still was going to be very painful.

The brunette wasn't able to do anything but to brace for the fall, protecting her head as she hit the hard ground. Hermione laid on her back grasping her stomach, the hit had knocked the wind out of her. She moaned loudly, as a feeble attempt to get her diaphragm into place again.

"Bloody hell." She said, relieved to have her breath back. Her legs hurt and there was a burning sensation on her torso and arms. She tightly closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what ached the most and from there decide what to do.

She soon heard the steps on someone coming her way. Feeling a pair of eyes looking at her, she quickly opened hers.

"Spying on us mudblood?" Lucius spoke as he aimed his wand at her. For the second time in probably all her life, she was being levitated against her will. At least this time was just a few centimeters from the ground.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I can think in a thousand different things I could do with my time, instead listen to your moaning." She tried to move her arms but the spell kept her from doing it. "Release me, right now!"

The man sneered in full contempt "How impertinent. A mudblood giving me orders in my own house."

Hermione scoffed at his words. "Funny you say that. I thought you were already used to receiving orders." Then she grew serious, trying put her best intimidating look. "Release me now, Lucius."

Draco who had been watching the exchange silently decided to speak "Father, I don't think she was–"

"Not now Draco." He quickly cut him off, his attention was focused on the girl he saw as vermin.

But whatever Lucius planned to say or do was interrupted by the approaching steps of someone else. "Ah! If it is my favorite brother in law and my dearest nephew" Bellatrix said gleefully as she approached the trio.

"A-aunt Bellatrix," Draco said, stepping aside several steps from his original place. Hermione couldn't tell if he did it because he was afraid of Bellatrix or another different reason.

"Lucius, how pleasant is to see you again." Hermione and probably everyone there heard how fake those spoken words sounded. Till this moment the woman hadn't acknowledged the girl's presence; her eyes stayed fixed at the man. She stepped closer into the personal space of Lucius, with a gentle expression she said. "The man that can lead a healthy life, without having any spine. You are a great inspiration to us all, Lucius." She said it as if his name tasted wrong in her mouth.

If Hermione wasn't so busy absorbing the fact that it appeared to be that she wasn't the only receiver of Bellatrix insults and abuse and more importantly that she disliked her sister's husband greatly, she would have laughed out loud at Bellatrix's dig.

The brunette took in Lucius' appearance. The man had tired eyes, the dark circles under only served to prove further that he hasn't been sleeping lately. The man's lips were dry, just like the rest of his skin. His long blond hair was slightly disheveled as if had been combed by fingers and not by a proper brush, she noticed that some strands were turning silver. It was more than evident that the stress the man had been feeling was crushing him, who knows for how long he has been living like that. Months probably.

Voldemort was angry with Lucius, that much at least Draco let her know just now. And by consequence, if Voldemort was angry with Lucius, surely his Lieutenant was equally angry at Lucius.

The man stepped forward openly sneering at the dark witch. "It wasn't entirely my fault Bellatrix and you know-…"

"What seems to be the problem here?" She interrupted, finally acknowledging the pressing issue.

Now the sneer directed towards Bellatrix was direct at Hermione "She was on the trees, probably spying."

The older woman took in the girl's appearance. "Were you?" She bobbed her head, asking with a very serious expression on her face.

The brunette saw through it, she knew the woman was only being annoying to increase her distress, and by consequence amuse herself. "Yes, I was. You put me there, remember?" She threw an exasperated look.

She turned towards Lucius. "Did you help her go down." But the man seemed confused. She looked behind her shoulder, directing her attention to her nephew. "Draco?"

The boy opened his mouth a couple of times looking between his aunt and father, before replying. "She fell."

"Explain," Bellatrix said.

"I heard she cast Relashio, then Arresto Momentum." After a heartbeat he looked at his father "W-which means she was probably stuck on the trees, and not spying."

Lestrange waved the girl's wand to break the spell Lucius had on her.

Hermione never thought there was going to be a moment in her life where she would appreciate the feeling of the hard ground under her feet.

"And you still managed to fall on your face. I believe it takes a special talent to achieve that."

The girl clenched her jaw. She should have known what to expect, of course, Bellatrix would diminish her victory and turning it into a failure.

How she wanted to punch that smug face on hers.

"I completed the task, Bellatrix. My wand." She extended her hand.

Surprisingly, Bellatrix placed the end of the wand on her palm without any resistance. Something that Hermione was prepared to meet.

How unpredictable she was.

"Tomorrow same hour, mudblood."

* * *

_"__The way I see it, you've learned valuable abilities," _Nagini said, rolling comfortably over the divan, almost like a cat would do. Hermione could understand the feeling, the fabric was so delightfully soft, just like most of the furniture inside the mansion.

"You are missing the point. _That_ is something I can do by myself." She took a deep breath, unwilling to let her temper flare up again. "I do not need her, yet the Lord tells her to tutor me"

_"__Is that why you are angry?" _

Hermione lifted partially her shirt as a response, displaying reddened marks all over her abdomen. Then, she proceeded to lift her sleeves showing the angry red marks, matching the other ones on the rest of her body. "This for starters it is what has me so angry. The second reason is that she isn't teaching me anything that I cannot do by myself. Which it only means she just wants to make my life miserable…" Remembering what Bellatrix and she talked yesterday, she added. "Bellatrix says she doesn't trust me; for all I know, she might be thinking that I'm spying for the Order or something. That is why she is willing to 'training' me."

Nagini laughed_, _a sound Hermione wasn't still used to hear._ "She really underestimates our Lord's intelligence." _

Hermione looked at the snake, that certainty and confidence in her voice made her wonder if she or the Lord suspected of the Potions Master. If they did, they would have already uncovered his treachery, the brunette reasoned. Voldemort wasn't a man to sit and wait if there was no real motivation behind it. Either Severus's days were numbered, her intuition told her it was unlikely. Or perhaps, Nagini was giving too much credit to Voldemort's intelligence. Whatever it was, this didn't concern her, Hermione could only sit and watch things develop from far away.

"Please could you just answer this, is he punishing us, Nagini?" Hermione's voice almost sounded like she was pleading "She for lying and me for… I don't know" She shrugged her shoulders, not entirely convinced of what she was about to say "…not being good enough?"

Nagini stayed silent for a short span of time, the brunette guessed she was considering her next words. _"Sit with me." _The snake invited her, as her figure uncoiled, opening a space wide enough for Hermione to lay between the large body. The girl sat without hesitation, letting herself be surrounded by Nagini's body._ "I believe is not a punishment. If our Lord wanted to punish you, you'll be having pretty scars all over your body." _The snake dragged herself along the girl's bosom. _"Those you have right now can be easily erased. But the ones that our Lord gives, those never disappear." _

"I'm not sure if that should appease me or not." The girl said, her body almost shivering, she didn't know if it was because of the thought of the hypothetical situation of meeting Voldemort's ugly side, or simply by the closeness of Nagini that sometimes was a little unnerving, but not enough to put her on edge or make her very uncomfortable.

_"__At the very least, he'll threaten you to be eaten by me," _Nagini said with flippancy.

She laughed at that. "That'll be more punishment for you than for me, I don't think I'll taste good."

_"__Oh, no dearest" _She could swear Hermione heard a purring behind that raspy tone_ "on the contrary, you do taste quite delicious when you are not moody, like right now." _

Nagini climbed up over the girl's chest, the rest of her body enclosed around Hermione_ "You are so warm."_

Hermione was about to offer a warming charm but opted for not to, as she didn't wish to get sidetracked by their conversation. "Now I understand, I have always sensed that you look at me like you wish to eat me."

_"__Hmm…Can you blame me? You are such a treat." _Perhaps Nagini saw everyone as a potential meal, and the brunette realized that she couldn't blame her. Nagini was a huge snake that needed equally large meals to sustain herself. Luckily, the brunette wasn't on the menu for the foreseeable future.

Their conversation died after that, Hermione sat there enjoying the silence and the company of Nagini. Meanwhile Nagini seemed to have the same intentions, and of course to take pleasure in the radiating warmth of the brunette.

Surprisingly, despite their first encounter, Hermione had learned to enjoy the snake's company and her devilish personality. Although she rarely displayed any other magical abilities besides Legilimency, she has led Hermione to believe that she was smart. Not knowledgeable, but that she could learn fast. Which meant that she didn't go to school, either magical or muggle one. It made her wonder what kind of life Nagini had before permanently becoming a snake. But she didn't want to pry into something that was a very personal matter. And Nagini never seemed willing to share her past life, from time to time she would only catch small glimpses of it, but too little to even be able to connect it somehow.

Hermione internally laughed at the irony as the idea crossed her mind. It was funny, that in this pit full of vipers and snakes, the one that was a real snake was the closest thing to a friend she had here.

_ "__I think a have death skin in my eye, will you help me remove it?" _Nagini slithered further around Hermione's figure, putting a small portion of her body on the girl's lap.

Hermione grunted at the weight on her body. "You are quite heavy you know"

_"…__Are you calling me fat?" _

Hermione smiled at the teasing tone in her mind, Nagini would ever hardly be so relaxed as to joke so often. She was glad to see the snake had a sense of humor. "Me? I would never dare."

The girl reached for the head, it was cold and soft to the touch. It was definitely not like she imagined, she had always thought it would be moist or slimy given the fact that the light always shined upon her skin. Curious eyes scrutinized the details on Nagini's head, she noticed some fainted marks of what looked like an old scar on one side of her face. For a few seconds, brown and yellow eyes connected, Hermione felt that Nagini was examining her face just as much as she was doing it to her.

Indeed, there was a piece of dried skin poking under her eye. Careful to not fully touch the eye, Hermione scratched the small patch of shed skin. "There." Rubbing a thumb to make sure no trace was left behind. "Aren't you captivating?"

_"__Probably because of my rugged looks." _Hermione snorted at the silly reply, she was about to speak again, but the sound of several steps behind the door halted her thoughts. After a beat, the doors of the room slid sideways, displaying Bellatrix with both arms stretched, grabbing each door's handle. The woman halted her movements at the sight of Hermione and Nagini.

The dark witch's eyes turned wider; surprise flickered in her face just before she adopted an impassive expression. A couple of figures behind her came into sight, Hermione recognized them immediately, they were the Lestrange brothers, accompanied by Yaxley and Dolohov.

She stayed still, with Nagini's head still on her hands, watching the lot of them behind Bellatrix's back. Several pair of eyes set with curiosity on the duo, Hermione saw a half-smile forming on Dolohov's lips just before returning to look at the dark witch. The older woman's gaze had hardened. Hermione recognized it as the same look she had in the library, a restrained form of contempt.

"I hope we are not interrupting anything," Bellatrix said, in a very syrupy voice. But her upper lip seemed to be itching to form a snarl. The woman slowly entered the room, followed by her entourage.

Suddenly the Malfoy mansion didn't feel as big as before.

Nagini hissed loudly, stopping the tracks of everyone except for Bellatrix_ "We were just leaving…" _the snake spoke to the girl.

_"__Say it!" _She hissed again, this time in an almost none aggressive manner, almost.

Hermione calmly stood up, pretending to be uninterested with what was unfolding. "We were just leaving…The room is all yours, guys." She faced at the four men standing before her, the brothers were the only ones with guarded distrust, her eyes lingered on Rodolphus Lestrange for a few more seconds before looking back at Nagini "Come on, Nagini. Let's go."

As Hermione was leaving the room with Nagini trailing behind her, she heard Yaxley speaking. "She talks to the snake? I thought it only talked with our Lord…"

"Go and ask her or it," Said Rabastan Lestrange.

"Don't ask her, she'll just probably tell you to go and ask your Lord" Dolohov spoke with humor in his voice.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Nagini took the path towards Voldemort's chambers, not before bidding goodbye to the girl._ "We'll talk again, soon." _

* * *

From her frizzy hair to her agitated pacing around the room, Hermione gave an air of restrained and controlled chaos.

A distinctive smell of Jeuspinia mushroom and Whisperleaf mixed together emanated from the small cauldron placed on the tea table. The fumes merged together into her clothes and probably any cloth material close from it. While not many people enjoyed the smell, Hermione had learned to tolerate it, to even not mind the penetrating odor at all. An enchanted knife was carefully mincing the rest of the ingredients as Hermione was prepared the next formula for the second cauldron. At the same moment, she was watchful of the passing time, not a minute earlier or late, she must incorporate everything into the mix. With months of practice, Hermione discovered that with precise timing, temperature and the use of a black Poui-wood spoon instead of the conventional ones made the effect of the potion stronger and durable than the original recipe.

A bubbling sound came from the second cauldron, indicating that the draught was starting to boil. The brunette quickly wrapped up all the ingredients in a cloth and placed it into the cauldron.

Her eyes flickered towards the clock once more.

_'__Maybe he isn't coming.'_

With an upper motion of her hand, the knife stopped cutting then proceeded to place all the minced ingredients when into the first cauldron, very gently she introduced the spoon. This was the most difficult part, her movements needed to be delicate, careful not agitate too much the contents. Slowly, the spoon swirled counterclockwise. Even now, Hermione would hold her breath every time until she was finished. She counted to 15 and then she did 1 swirl clockwise.

After this, the only thing left was to wait for an hour and then pour the contents into the aligned vials on the table. As the spoon came out, she exhaled loudly, laying back languidly into the sofa.

The second cauldron to kept boiling its concoction, Hermione watched the vapor going up mixing its fumes with the already widely spread smell of the Veela's brew. Her nose was numbed, she could barely smell anything by now.

The expected knock at her door finally came. She turned to look at the clock, almost midnight.

How inconsiderate.

"Come in." Not moving from her place, waving her hand to stop the boiling process of the second cauldron.

Severus stepped through the door. The girl was watchful of how his gaze wandered across the room, assuming that he was taking in the whole mess on Hermione's working space. After a moment she guessed right seeing the small sniff of disapproval on his face. "Did you rob the apothecary again, Granger?"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows "Again? What do you mean?"

The air was very stuffy inside due to all the potion brewing, something that the young witch was used to. But Snape seemed very intolerant towards the heat and smell. The man pulled his wand to open all the windows, then conjured a mild form of Venti circulating the air from inside. It only took a second to have the room's air fresh and purified.

"Didn't you steal ingredients from my storage room in the second year to make a Polyjuice potion?" A short small smile flashed across his face, catching the girl opening her eyes wide in surprise.

Had he known all this time? And here she was thinking she got away with it. "Are you mad about that?" She smiled sheepishly; she chuckled at the sudden stern face of his.

"I ask the elves to buy everything for me. I can't leave the grounds without the Lord's permission remember?"

Severus sat on the sofa facing the girl just like the last time they were in the room. On this occasion, things felt less tense.

"Do you want black tea?" She offered, at what the man only gave a slight nod.

"Everyone is still curious about you, Dolohov just cornered me before coming here." Hermione understood that as an explanation and sort of apology for his tardiness.

"What did he want?" The tea tray came floating over the occupied table, delicately pouring two cups of tea.

"More of the same I assume, he wants to know why are you here," Severus said while taking hold of the warm cup and the saucer. "Granted, he seemed more curious, than outright suspicious."

That was good. The half-smile in the study was a good signal and now Severus relying on this information to her, perhaps Dolohov has learned to accept her without holding any ill-will against her persona.

Hermione commanded the tray to go back to its place. "What did you tell him?" The warm liquid traveled down her esophagus, feeling the tiny bit of tension at the back of her skull eased at the hot spice. The girl relished the sweet aroma lingering in her mouth.

"That you have always been rotten." His stoic features never fell.

For a second, Hermione couldn't detect if he was serious or not. Steadily, the corners of her lips curved upwards when she finally understood the meaning behind his words. "Thank you for putting out a good word for me."

If only all their conversations were like this, Hermione could see a potential friend in Severus.

Such a shame it wasn't.

He took the first sip of his tea; Hermione saw the approval in his face at her choice of herbs. How strange was to sit in front of the man she tried to murder yesterday; sitting comfortably and sipping his tea. Which if she were in his place, she would definitely think it was poisoned. But no, Severus didn't seem to be suspicious, nor angry.

How bizarre, being here and exchanging words like something close to friendship.

_'__More bizarre must be for him, sitting in front of her ex-student who tried to burn him to crisp' _

Not wishing to waste more time in idle chat Hermione approached the subject first. "I must assume you are here because about what happened yesterday."

"What do you think happened yesterday?"

The placidity in her died right that second. This was one of the examples of why Severus couldn't be a friend. "Enough Snape, I'm not in the mood to play guessing games with you." Her voice was hard, out-right defensive. She wouldn't let Severus take the control of the conversation "Either you explain what is that you wish to talk about or don't."

"Then you better start by answering my question." He replied unfazed by the brunette's reaction.

"Why would I?" she retorted quickly.

"Are you aware that you shaped during our fight?" His question came out very casual, so much, that Hermione thought he was joking with her. Strangely, his stoic face never wavered. Not this time.

"Shaped..." Her eyes narrowed, not sure if she understood his words. "As if in werewolf?" The man nodded.

She could hardly believe what he was saying. Yet, she saw only truth on his features. "That can't happen is impossible."

"I thought so too. But you did, at least partially."

"What do you mean partially?"

"You grew fangs and the eyes changed to amber."

Hermione instinctively reached for her mouth, pressing the fingertips onto her lips "…How?" she muttered, barely audible.

"Tell me, Granger. What happened yesterday?" The man insisted once more. The saucer rested over his crossed legs on top of his knee, one hand was holding it, while the other lifted the cup to his lips. The brunette perceived that Severus wasn't really angry at her, he seemed more interested in a reason than anything else. There was a calm aura around him.

"Why did you attack me?" There it was, again. The inflection of curiosity instead of recrimination.

He just wanted to understand.

The young witch left on the table, "I was angry."

"Why?"

"You called me a stupid child." Her voice was neutral, detached.

That was one way to simplify all the turmoil she felt inside last night.

"And for that, you tried to kill me?" He raised an eyebrow, asking for more than that.

Hermione didn't feel like explaining herself to him. Indeed, she was angry at his words, but what threw her out the cliff into an ocean of raging madness was the way he said it. He had opinions and questions that didn't concern him, whether his intentions were benign or not. Snape looking down on her as if he was right in all accounts, was one of the many things that drove her to see red.

And willing to admit it at least to herself, the fact that he called her a mudblood and disappointing in the same sentence, it did hurt.

An overreaction for anyone with a little bit of self-restraint, but not to her. She hasn't been in much control of her emotion since she became infected with lycanthropy.

"…I think I might have lost control of my emotions." A long sigh left her mouth, watching the man silently ask _'might have?'_

"To be honest when I woke up this morning, I barely remember what happened last night. I remember feeling angry at the things you said. And before talking to you, you saw I had to deal with Bellatrix and our Lord. Last night when you saw me, I wasn't very…emotionally stable. Truthfully, I wasn't conscious that I tried to kill you till today's morning."

This was as far as she was willing to share. Snape acknowledge her words with a nod, seemingly satisfied with her reply, for the moment.

He sat forward; his gaze fixed at her. "I tried to find an answer to this new development of yours, but so far there are no patients infected with lycanthropy that displayed the same symptoms as yours, Granger. And if there were, it has not been recorded." He paused for a moment, turning his eyes at the piled-up books placed on the floor next to him. Hermione's books about lycanthropy. "I can't say I'm surprised. In reality, there is not enough research on this field."

"Tell me about it," Hermione said, looking in the same direction he was. By now she was sure she could recite every paragraph of those books. Their contents held some useful information, but most were completely rubbish.

"As you already know, Lycanthropy carriers may develop certain behaviors outside of the monthly transformation. Taste for raw meat, growling, keen sense of smell. Or like Greyback, his long nails and the excess of fur on his face."

"And you think is somehow related to my case?"

"Werewolves are emotional beings. They are not driven by rationality, hence the need for Wolfsbane to keep them sane during full-moon. Werewolves feel everything strongly, the hate is more intense, they love like a starved animal. They are extremely passionate people."

Severus hesitated for a second, thinking his next words. "I believe the emotions; in this case, your rage triggered those effects. Yesterday, with the intensity of the moonlight mixed with anger, gave an opportunity for you to transform."

"But if werewolves are so emotional, surely I shouldn't be the only one that has shaped. There must be at least one infected in a moment of their lives must have felt as strongly as I did and shaped."

"And that is the question that I pondered over. As I said, there are no registered cases similar to yours."

"You are unique, Granger," said Severus.

But Hermione didn't care for uniqueness at all.

_'__So many dramatic changes in one's life will eventually numb anyone…' _Hermione reflected on why wasn't she surprise about this change as she sat still, absorbing this new revelation.

Basically, she shaped because she went mad.

Hate strongly, love strongly. Those words didn't sit well with her. It meant to be lost in the emotion without having control over her mind. That is why she tried to kill Severus and why it was easy to use hate as a base for casting her magic. She didn't know what to do with this information, should she be worried? Or just go along with it? There wasn't anything she could do. Shall she take wolfsbane, then? Impossible, as she couldn't predict when she was about to lose her temper again.

"Unlike Potter, you don't wear proudly your heart under your sleeve. Yet, you still have too much to learn." Hermione turned to look at Severus who was scrutinizing her from across. Fully understanding what he meant by that, Hermione eased the tension in her body and made sure the expression in her face was neutral.

"Do I need to be worried?"

"Just try to control your temper if you don't want to end up in the same circumstances."

_'__Easier said than done.'_

"I'll try that. Perhaps, meditation could help."

Severus nodded in approval.

The man forcefully placed the cup and the saucer on the small table. He faced at the girl, opening and closing his mouth; her eyes saw the light struggle within him, whatever he wished to say seemed difficult to voice it out.

"As for calling you a stupid child, I won't apologize for that. You are a child, and you are behaving stupidly." He raised his hand up, stopping any intention for Hermione to rebut his last words. "But for what I will apologize is for calling you a mudblood, that was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

Hermione didn't expect that at all, it must have cost him a lot of effort on his part to concede he did wrong. Nevertheless, the damage was already done and the apology although sincere, didn't hold any meaning to the brunette.

And if he expected her to apologize for trying to kill him, he was going to be very disappointed. The brunette didn't feel like asking for forgiveness over something she didn't have control of. So, the girl did what she was capable to do according to her actual feelings, she acknowledged his words and move on.

"How did I arrive at my room? And did you change my clothes?"

"Narcissa did. She approached me, us, when you were about to pass out."

Her mind unconsciously resurfaced the vivid memory, Hermione reached for her chest, caressing the invisible cuts as if they were still there open. An action that didn't go unnoticed by Severus, who suddenly cleared his throat and twisted on his seat.

"I'm sure she had questions. And what did you tell her?" Trying to not jump into conclusion of what she might or might not have seen.

"She saw you on the ground injured, she knows I did that to you. After I cast the counterspell and bought you inside the mansion to Narcissa's healing room. She helped you treat the rest of the bruises and cuts. While she did that, she asked me for an explanation." He paused, and then said slowly in a serious voice. "You must know, Granger, that I don't go randomly casting a spell towards children. Especially not the ones that can fully maim a person." A feeling of uneasiness started to stir in Hermione, "To explain what happened without giving your secret away, I said you suffer from psychotic behavior"

"What?"

"A muggle condition that-"

"I know what it is!" She cried "So you told her I'm crazy?!"

"Yes."

Brown eyes squinted at the almost imperceptible trembling on the man's lips. The corners of his mouth were fighting to go upwards, his pupils glinted with mirth.

"That's wonderful, I can't wait to see the look she will give me tomorrow," Hermione exclaimed, crossing her arms defensively. Despite the annoyed expression on her face, the brunette was internally pleased to see that Severus Snape could smile, and have the opportunity to be able to see it.

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. "If it makes feel any better, I don't think she entirely believed me. If she knows something more than what I told her, she didn't show it."

It didn't.

"Bloody great." She said, sounding not so happy. "I'll talk to her."

And just for a moment, as Hermione rested her head on the backseat, watching the teapot refilling both cups, she pretended that Severus was a friend and not the double agent that he truly was. Just for a moment, she was willing to forget all the ways that this precarious relationship could go wrong in the near future.

_'__Just for a moment, we can pretend to be normal.'_ She thought while watching the man enjoy his cup of tea.

"Now tell me, how was your training with Bellatrix?" He casually asked.

Hermione groaned out loud.

_'__Ugh, not again…' _


	12. Chapter 12

Cokeworth's residents were greeted by the stuffy atmosphere in the early morning. A thick grey mantle of pollution enveloped most of the city; on certain summer days, just like today, the town's textile factories worked non-stop. The river bank had more garbage than often did, and large chunks of accumulated lint floated along the green water giving it a gruesome look than usual. Most of the waste ended up accumulated at the bank at the end of Spinner's End street. The smell coming from the river could be so foul that some of the closest residents would often wear a cloth to cover their nose during outside hours.

As soon as Severus's face twitched, there was a groan of regret for leaving the windows open at night. All because he was too drunk to cast a cooling spell before going to sleep. With his face submerged in the pillow, his hand touched blindly across the bedside table, pushing across photographs and small mementos till his fingers found what he was looking for. With two twists of his wrist, the smell had vanished, and the windows were closed.

While full consciousness simmered through his mind, the incoming headache did too.

Severus rarely indulged in solitary self-intoxication but for some reason, nostalgia perhaps, last night he indulged a little too much on elven wine and, as his eyes settle on the bottle on the floor, one bottle of fire-whiskey.

To look at it made him feel queasy.

The man walked to the kitchen. He rubbed his chin, feeling the prickling hairs against his palm. Being unable to grow a natural and respectable beard, Severus did a mental note to shave clean the wispy hairs.

But before that, he needed first to ease his dried throat and the pulsing headache. Through messy drawers, he searched for a Boltus potion to cure his hangover.

A brown owl chose that time to peck on his window, under its claw, a bundle of newspapers

Having found what he was looking for, Severus let the animal enter and place the delivery on the table. The animal flew away right after.

As he emptied the contents of the vial Severus took the paper on top, the Daily Prophet. Were it not because he has years of experience at controlling his emotions, he would have spat the contents of his mouth. He re-read the headlines over again just to make sure he didn't misunderstand.

Slowly, he lowered the newspaper. His gaze fixed on the dark wooden table. His first thoughts went to Dumbledore. Knowing that after the headmaster saw this, it won't be long before he decided to summon him.

Convinced that this new development will bring too much uncertainty, Severus hastily prepared for the day.

* * *

"Now levitate it higher."

Hermione did as she was told, her arm rose higher followed by the heavy crystal ball suspended in the air.

"Hold it there."

She grunted; her whole right arm felt close to become jelly. Shadows crossed by from the corner of her eye. Someone or someones were watching the training from afar, yet, from her position, it was hard to tell who they were.

The ball shook, abruptly losing its height.

"Focus!" Bellatrix commanded. "You are too distracted today mudblood. Why is that?"

Hermione cast a glance at Bellatrix, only to be scolded again.

"Don't look at me! Look at your target!" Hermione could almost taste the sour mood of the older woman in her own mouth. The brunette wondered what got Lestrange in such an angrier and meaner state than usual.

Gritting her teeth, she gazed firmly at the target. Ignoring the constant trembling in her arm, she kept the ball still.

"Cast Diffindo."

Nimble fingers made an incisive motion downwards. With the loud crack came along little crystallized dust falling like almost invisible, tiny snowflakes. Both witches watched the two-crystal half's laying on the ground.

Bellatrix reached for both pieces, closely examining the results. From her standing position, Hermione observed Bellatrix's fingers running across the inner part of the ball with an unreadable expression on her face.

For a second the brunette expected a negative response, as usual. But instead, Bellatrix turned to glance at her with an expression that almost looked like an appraisal. "It is uneven. But a clean-cut none the less." She raised the two pieces on the air, soon the solid material liquified joining together again to make itself ball. "Let's move on to the next spell."

The brunette released the breath she didn't know she was holding. A tad of involuntary trembling began creeping around her arms and legs. Her muscles were screaming at her for a well-deserved rest.

She cleaned the sweat from her brow, as she waited for Bellatrix to start the demonstration.

All that Hermione was learning since she began training under Bellatrix's tutelage has been wandless magic. As the first 2 weeks slowly progressed, the spells became harder to cast. Spells that with a wand in hand she could cast them with her eyes and mouth closed. A first-year student at Hogwarts could do all this with little effort.

But now those same spells proved taxing; for wandless magic is in another realm of casting prowess.

"Very well, mudblood. Let's see what you can do." She pointed at scattered pieces of burned wood "Aim there."

Her mind and body had to be in perfect synchronization, like two dancers, moving at the rhythm of the music. If her mind and hand were the dancers, then the music was the magic. Everything had to be the right amount. The right amount of magic, the correct swing of her wrist and fingers. The right position of her feet; both grounded on the soil.

A dance full of risks; for wandless magic, is as dangerous as it is extremely useful.

One false step and it could lead her to incredible pain.

As she pronounced the magical words, a gust of wind passing through carried a whiff of the most delicious, sublime smell reaching her nostrils and halting any functions in the brain.

The flame didn't shoot like it was expected to, instead, it furiously engulfed the girl's hand for a few agonizing seconds.

Things went south in a matter of seconds.

"What have I told you, stupid girl?!" Bellatrix screeched; the long maintained neutral expression on face turned to one of exasperation. "You must focus!" Her angry shout was muffled by the sudden cries of pain from the brunette.

Hermione kneeled on the ground, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill "Damn it! It hurts!" she whimpered as she cupped her right hand close to her chest.

Bellatrix approached her. Intending to take a better look at the injury, she went on one knee "Let me see," She said, irritated. Her intentions had a different reaction from the girl, Hermione quickly slapped the woman's hand not wanting to be touched by her. Afraid that her touch could turn like the incident of weeks ago. "Don't touch me."

The dark witch blinked confused by the rejection; that sentiment quickly died as her expression tightened with anger. "So be it." She hissed. Somehow her foul mood became more prominent than minutes ago. "Suck it up, mudblood." Dark eyes loomed over the girl. "Try again!"

"Are you serious?! I can't!" Her voice was ragged. She clenched her jaw trying to contain the whimper in her throat. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead, traveling all the way to her jaw. Her mind could hardly catch up with reality. A large part of her right hand was ugly red, exposed skin, peeling itself to reveal an inner layer; small bubbles of water started to take form on palm and fingers. And the rest, small drops of blood started to filter from the muscle tissue.

Hermione was convinced it was a second-degree burn.

If that wasn't enough, she was gradually losing the effects of her numbing potion. Many things were invading her brain at the same time; her mind felt like she could barely form a coherent thought.

"You can and you will! Stand up!" The dark witch forced her to stand up by a flicker of her wand. Hermione couldn't do anything but to abide by the will of the magic forcing to stretch her legs. "And try not to burn your face this time. Or do it; see if I care." The dark witch replied snottily.

"I can't!" The girl yelled, immobilized. The pain became sharper even when a single muscle twitched involuntarily. "I can't move my hand!"

Her mind kept screaming out.

The throbbing pain continued increasing in waves, there were very few intervals of small lulls giving her false hope of an end. But each wave robbed her of the ability to even breathe. Her legs trembled as if they would give up again.

Bellatrix prostrated before her. The smell quickly invaded her senses, yet it didn't do much to distract her from the injury.

"They are watching how pathetic you are, little mudblood" The dark witch turned to look over the girl's shoulder, a smile that didn't reach to even match the cruel tone of her voice. "They are having a laugh at your expense by seeing how weak, and pitiful you are."

Hermione maintained her eyes glued to the ground, keeping her hand close to her chest. She tried not to react to the woman's taunts. It bothered her that to a certain extent Bellatrix had learned to prod at her pride. It was her fault; she hasn't been shy about showing what she could do. It was only a matter of time that Bellatrix figured it out how to mock her where it bothered her.

She sensed Bellatrix's impatience increasing by the second. The sound of gravel grazing against the dark leather boots as they took every step was becoming more forceful and restless, like a child who just couldn't stay still for 10 seconds.

The tip of the woman's wand dug under the girl's chin pushing upwards until their eyes met. Defiant brown eyes saw that there was no trace of sympathy on her face but only cruel amusement. The thrumming in her body vibrated with new intensity by the closeness of this woman. How disgusting.

She wondered if Bellatrix felt something.

Probably not. Better not.

"Tell me, Girl. Once on the battlefield, do you think the other side would be as forgiving as I am right now? What if you get injured and the only way to defend yourself is wandless magic? Are you going to kneel and cry?"

Hermione knew that it shouldn't surprise her that Bellatrix could be such a bitch as to force her to cast again in such a state. And yet, she couldn't help but feel the twinge of disappointment at her indifference. She knew the feeling was utterly ridiculous. Still, the emotion was there in her chest. She blamed her wolf for that.

"I'm asking a question, mudblood. You better answer!" Bellatrix's voice became dangerously low.

Through clenched teeth, the girl replied. "No" her eyes never straying from the incisive dark orbs "I won't kneel." She bared her teeth, trying not to wince at the incoming wave of pain.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll attack." The girl said what surely the woman wanted to hear.

"Yes!" The dark witch withdrew her wand from the girl's chin and stepped back. Hermione took the chance to take several breaths of unaltered air. Considering her actual situation, Hermione couldn't separate the difference of whether her mind felt numb because of the smell or the intense pain. Or the two combined.

"You block your pain and attack! Because your life depends on it!" Bellatrix waved her hand dramatically, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts of won battles. Memories of tortured enemies.

"Do it now!" Bellatrix commanded once more.

When the words failed to come out, Hermione fervently shook her head.

"You'll do it or so help me I will Crucio you!" She pointed her wand at Hermione as a warning.

Brown eyes adopted a darker look, resentment flashed over bleary eyes on the verge of tears. The girl was frightened to make the same mistake again and worsen her injury.

"Don't look at me like that, child!" the woman growled, a snarl contorted her face. "You didn't want my help. Now we do things my way. You have two options here. Either you'll do as I say or you'll be on the floor begging for mercy, then you'll do as I say…"

"I don't care! I don't care if someone is laughing at me. Nor do I bloody care if you throw Crucio at me. I won't do it, because I can't. Not because I don't want to." She mustered what little energy she had to stand her ground.

The dark witch's right arm flexed with intent, her wand held firmly in her hand; the left hand extended to her side to counterpoise. The brunette knew a spell was coming.

"Bellatrix that's enough!" Hermione heard Narcissa's authoritative voice behind her back. The sound of her steps getting louder by the second. "She is a child!"

Bellatrix kept pointing her wand at the girl, yet her focus drifted to her sister. She scoffed at Narcissa's words "She needs to learn Cissy. I'm doing her a favor." Her gaze returned to Hermione "And apparently she needs a dose of respect for her teacher."

Narcissa placed herself between her sister and the girl. At that moment, the brunette realized that the person watching from afar had been Narcissa.

"What kind of favor is that? if she can hardly acknowledge your words. She can barely stand still; much less is she able to move her hand." Narcissa paused, sparing one fickle glance towards the pitiful-looking girl. "Bella, you are not teaching; you are torturing her."

"You have never been in a war. War is unforgiving, and she needs to be prepared." The dark witch expression darkened. "And you know very well it is possible to cast with an injured hand. After all, you have seen it before."

Narcissa features relaxed, retaking her usual cold demeanor. "Yes, and I'm sure you remember what happened after." A shadow set across her blue eyes.

The dark witch lowered her wand while adopting the same body language of her sister. For a moment, Hermione felt like an intruder; both women seemed to share a conversation in silence. However, not knowing what else to do, she stood there watching them both.

"You can continue this tomorrow," Narcissa said, allowing no more room for argument.

"Do what you must, dear sister," Bellatrix replied begrudgingly. Before the blonde could say something else, the dark witch turned around and walked away. Only Narcissa and Hermione remained in the empty clearing listening to the sound of quick steps fading in the distance.

When she turned around, the girl regarded her face with curiosity. Her features held no visible emotions but as soon as her blue sets on her injury she reacted as if she had smelled something awful.

She pulled out her wand, with a gentle swift Hermione's hand was encased by an orb of cool water. The girl gasped. She held her breath, waiting to get accustomed to the new sensation.

"Follow me, Miss Granger." Narcissa walked pass beside the brunette, her steps tracing back to the mansion.

Hermione _knew._ She knew this could happen. Why did she have to doubt it? Once was a coincidence, but twice wasn't. The symptoms of her imprinting aggravated on the day of full moon, rendering the potion almost useless. It was her damn fault she got injured. And more than that, she risked herself further with Bellatrix.

The woman did notice how distracted she was; the brunette tried very hard to school her facial expressions and not give anything away. However, it was pretty evident that Bellatrix has been studying her like a bug under a lens; anything off, and she would smell it like a wolf sniffing blood.

'_What if she finds something odd enough for her to investigate further?' _She was becoming reckless. Too much trust in the potion, and not in her instincts.

Hermione found herself sitting again in Narcissa's potion room. The noise of drawers and cabinet doors being opened reached her ears soon as she stepped inside. While Narcissa continued searching for her ingredients, the girl lay down on the small bed. The respite of her muscles manifested in silent a sigh. Exhaustion simmered even through her bones. They felt like spaghetti in a bowl of soup, if the soup were her muscles.

All these days with Bellatrix have been gradually draining her. It didn't matter how fast learner she was, especially since getting infected with lycanthropy. Even if it only took less than a few days to learn a new wandless spell— that surely any professor at Hogwarts would be amazed by her abilities if they were to see her nowadays— it didn't matter in the eyes of Bellatrix, which made her feel like everything she has done is wrong.

There hasn't been a session where the dark witch didn't ask anything but perfection when it came to spell casting. Even when Hermione was confident that she did everything right. Bellatrix would always verbally abuse her and tell her how mediocre she was. Like today, what was supposed to be an approval made it sound more like criticism.

Wrong posture; wrong hand movement; too weak to damage; too wasteful with energy; too slow. Nothing was done right according to that psychotic woman. "Crazy witch" Hermione muttered to herself as she steamed on her own thoughts.

A faint pull manifested in her chest as if her wolf was trying to remind her of the ties she had with that deranged witch.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

"Drink this," Narcissa said, offering a black vial to Hermione.

This time there was no hesitation from the girl's side, she drank it avidly. The expression on her face was as if she just sucked a lemon through her nose. A little cough followed after the vial was emptied; it bitter taste that could only be compared to drinking bleach. "What was this?" The brunette asked. She put her hand on her mouth to muffle the dry coughs.

"It helps to fasten the curing process." The blue-eyed woman replied.

The blonde took out an orange paste from a wooden box. "Place your hand on the table and raise your sleeve." She instructed.

Hermione abided her words. She lowered her gaze, watching the clay-like material being applied on her burned skin. She couldn't help but notice Narcissa's touch and how gentle it was. She was very careful to not put much pressure on the wound; the blisters were treated with the utmost care, something that the brunette made her feel less tense.

"Do you have much experience treating the injured?" Hermione asked with interest.

Narcissa's ministrations stopped. She glanced up briefly, then she returned to her task. "No, it is recently that I have started nursing people."

There was evident tension on Narcissa's shoulders, and if the girl squinted, she could see trails of it around her eyes and mouth. No matter how much glamour she had used around her eyes, there wasn't any potion available that could erase the exhaustion in those blue orbs. Hermione concluded that the lack of sleep was related to the woman's family problems.

"Death Eaters?"

Narcissa's expression was blank, nothing gave away what was going through her head. But once brown eyes met with those icy eyes, they gave away a small glimpse of… pity? The brunette wasn't sure she saw correctly.

"No. Only you." Her lips pressed against each other.

"I see." Surprisingly, Hermione didn't feel so bothered by Narcissa's gaze. It wasn't something she hasn't seen before. Besides, she probably did look pitiful. Her boots and the end of her robes were caked in mud, frizzy hair, sweaty, and not even an hour ago, she carried a contorted face around.

Both witches remained silent for the next minutes. Hermione continued observing Narcissa spreading the last layer. To her relief, the pain was barely there. The paste was already doing its wonders, leaving only a tingling and cool sensation on the injury.

"Do you have any other injury?" Narcissa asked.

She shrugged. "No, nothing that's worth checking."

Narcissa acknowledged her words with a small nod.

"Thank you, Ms. Malfoy." Said the girl, "For treating my injury and for taking me away from Bellatrix." She shuddered at the possibility of what would have happened in the Malfoy matriarch hadn't intervened. "I think she was about to Crucio me if you hadn't inter-"

"She wasn't going to harm you further." The blonde cut her words. Whether or not what she said was true, Narcissa's clipped tone was full of certainty.

Hermione snorted, thinking that the woman couldn't be serious. "She could have fooled me."

"Believe it or not, Miss Granger. My sister doesn't torture children."

The girl's eyes narrowed; her pupils filled with incredulity. A wry smile formed on her lips. "Funny you say that, Ms. Malfoy. A couple of weeks ago you asked if the cut on my ribs had been made by your dear sister. Now you say that she would never torture me."

"I never asked if she did it intentionally, did I?" She stood from the chair; her hand held firmly the bowl containing what was left of the orange paste. "I know my sister tends to lose control in battle. I only wondered if she hit you accidentally."

Hermione shook her head in disagreement "That doesn't prove she wasn't going to hurt me today."

She stopped for a moment, placing the bowl on her working table. "Doesn't?" Narcissa turned around raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow in response. "Let's see. How long has she been training you?"

"A little more than two weeks." She replied, not understanding where this was going.

"Has she intentionally physically tortured you, cut you? maim you?"

"Not exactly, but…"

"Has she intentionally used a jinx, hex, or maybe an unforgivable on you?"

"No. But…"

"Then I stand by my earlier statement." A short but condescending smile painted the woman's lips.

A deep frown set on Hermione's face. She couldn't believe this; was Narcissa so blind to her sister's behavior? "She is sadistic!" Standing up from the bed, she took a step forward, closely matching the same height as the blonde woman. "She relishes on watching me getting hurt every time I'm training with her! She might not have hurt me directly, _yet_. But her methods often leave me with injuries and open wounds. You saw it today; she doesn't care if I can barely move. So, forgive me for not believing you that she wouldn't dare to Crucio me for her own amusement. What guarantees can you give that she would not escalate later on? …I'm sure there aren't."

It was Narcissa's turn to shook her head, she did it so lightly that Hermione could have missed it if she wasn't directly looking at her face. She could swear that an internal struggle inside the blonde's mind was taking place, her face didn't reveal anything, but her hands told another different tale. Two fingers played with a silver ring with blue stones, lazulite gems perhaps, tastefully encrusted in the ring. It almost possessed the same color as those cold eyes.

Narcissa's expression became defensive after noticing the scrutinizing gaze of Hermione on her. "You wouldn't understand, you are just a…"

"A Mudblood. Is that what you wish to say?" Although her voice was equally devoid of any emotion just as the pure-blooded woman. The first twinges of irritation bubbled in her stomach.

"…A Child. And a muggle-born at that." The woman said, leaving clear that she never meant to use the word mudblood.

"Whatever…" The girl clenched her jaw.

"My sister is not a 'crazy woman', Miss Granger. As you blatantly said it." The girl had the decency to feel embarrassed that Narcissa had heard her early musings.

With a knowing smile, the blonde woman appraised the girl. "After all, you would know…"

"What are…?" Hermione opened her eyes wide, only to narrowed them again as understanding dawned on her. "Look, whatever Severus told you …"

"Is a lie. I know." A tight lip smile appeared on her features. "Please, Miss Granger. By now you must realize that I'm not stupid.

"I never thought you were, Ms. Malfoy." It was true, at first the brunette thought of Narcissa as another pureblood with a spoiled childhood that grew to be the trophy wife of an equally arrogant man. Now, she didn't know what to think. One thing for sure was that the woman was very perceptive, cunning. She remained silent most of the time, but she listened and observed all the time. A real Slytherin.

"I'm very upset with him at the moment. He doesn't normally lie." She raised one eyebrow "Yet, he lied about you. Why is that, Miss Granger?"

It took a lot of effort to not laugh at that statement._ 'He doesn't normally lie. Well, that's rich.'_

The amusing thought died with a stab on her chest, like a punch in the gut, a realization hit Hermione with such force that she almost flinched. As the thought rapidly took shape in her head, a cold chill ran through her spine. Irritation reached the turning point to anger.

How was it possible that Snape, a man whose life is built on lies, couldn't tell a convincing lie to Narcissa?

_'__Bloody, snake. How didn't I see it coming?'_

There was no answer in her mind that she could say that won't arouse more questions. Hermione opted to take the defensive route.

"Is that what is keeping you awake at night?" She took a step back, opening space between them. "The fact that Severus lied and perhaps that you don't know the reason why I'm still here?" The blonde had no right to interrogate her. "You have been a very gracious host to me so far Mrs. Malfoy despite being a Muggleborn myself. I wonder why is that? I hope is not to get information out of me. Allow me to save you the effort: You are not getting anything. Not from me."

The girl's expression adopted a somber, menacing display. Braved by her position in the status quo and her knowledge of Narcissa's personal affairs, Hermione decided to take on step further. "Maybe you should invite your pathetic husband back to your bedroom instead of wasting your time with me. Or focus on your son, he needs your attention more than I need it."

The cold and impassive mask fell apart the moment the girl chose to speak ill of her family. Her face contorted with barely restrained anger. When she took out her wand, the first thought to cross the brunette's head was if Narcissa was going to finish the task that her sister didn't.

And if she did, Hermione wouldn't blame her. Not this time. She knew she went too far.

With a wave of her wand, the woman opened the room's door with such force that it almost broke from its hinges. "Get. out!" She seethed. "Now!"

Without further delay, the young witch walked out. Just as soon as she stepped outside, the door closed violently behind her back.

Walking the hallway back to the common room, the feeling of guilt stirred inside her ribcage with every step she took. Narcissa didn't deserve those cruel words. Yet, there was no other option. If she had lied, Narcissa would have known. That could only lead to more headaches. And to speak the truth wasn't an option in Hermione's book. She needed to talk to the man who originally provoked all this.

_'__Severus has some explaining to do._'

The brunette had earlier concluded that Snape knew what he was doing. Lying just enough for him to weasel himself out, but no enough for Narcissa to fully believe him. He was manipulating Narcissa. With what purpose? She wondered.

* * *

Agony.

It was the only word she could use to describe the werewolf transformation.

The familiar yet so extremely miserable sensation of bones cracking and skin stretching came sooner than she expected it. First, it was the fur covering all over her skin, immediately followed by the skin on the tip of her fingers peeling away, morphing into very sharp claws. After that, it was hell. Her entire body started molding itself into her werewolf shape. Bones became larger, snapping every second as if they were breaking in two. The skin stretched to a point that always made Hermione think it will break and bleed out. But never did. She felt her organs accommodating inside her more ample ribcage. And the upper fangs came out from her muzzle, she could feel her lower jaw being grazed by the sharp fangs.

A huffed formed in her chest, which came in the sound of a deep growl that rumbled across the room. After the last changes in her body, she looked around her surroundings, as the process would always leave her dizzy and disoriented in the first seconds.

Hermione straightened her spine, balancing with her two feet, she made sure from a safe distance that all mirrors were faced down or covered by drapes. It was bad enough that she turned into an ugly beast. There was no need to force that image on her consciousness.

_'__Now what?'_

The cabinet where she kept alcohol bottles, was practically empty. The plan to drink herself into a stupor, as she often did, wasn't on the table today. Once she experienced the first night of imprint symptoms in this form with nothing but her will to endure. This was a habit born of despair and anguish. She never enjoyed the taste and hated the sensation in her mouth after waking up. Yet it was her only decent option.

The metabolism in this body was too fast to hold anything for a long time.

Which brought her to her other problem, one hour ago she dozed herself with one vial to numb her symptoms. It wouldn't take long before Hermione would start to feel the compulsion to go and look for Bellatrix.

Although the mere idea excited her wolf, the brunette felt nauseated just at the mere suggestion. She hated her, and it'll be raining frogs the day she decided to like something about that woman.

Besides, even if she was heavily drugged and found, somehow miraculously, the dark witch likable, Bellatrix didn't like her. _'If I would go a look for her in this body, she'll definitely kill me at first sight.'_ Yet the tug in her body told her that the beast inside didn't seem to mind those odds.

Lucky for her, as long as she didn't forget to drink her wolfsbane, she would always be in control of this body.

Thinking of the devil, Hermione felt the first pulses of this body longing for her mate; the closer it was, the need became quite bothersome.

It wasn't hard to imagine what would she do if she hadn't drunk the wolfsbane. That was why she couldn't ever fail to drink it.

Her eyes drifted to the windows._ 'I need to leave.' _

* * *

Hermione rested her hands on the window's ledge, from this room she could see the east garden. There wasn't any sign of clouds in the sky, the thin tree's branches shook ever so slightly as the breeze passed through them. She found the mansion's gardens were a little eccentric for her taste; she preferred the more conventional ones; the ones that weren't enchanted. There was something unnerving in being watched by almost sentient statues or moving bushes.

Her eyes rested on the few elves taking this not-so-often opportunity of good weather to tend the flowers and bushes. Some of them were cleaning the gardenias and lilies from unwanted weed, while others trimmed the bushes giving more stylized forms of different kinds of magical beasts.

She wondered if those elves were the only ones left alive.

_'__Poor creatures, they must miss their friends.'_ Hermione tried not to dwell too much on those thoughts, as there was nothing she could do and only served to feed her anger, and her still unshaken fear. Instead, she took comfort in the greenery outside.

A soft crack of wood disturbed her peace. Another tentative step pressed on naked wood, telling Hermione of the new individual in the room.

How unusual, the girl thought, as she regarded the boy in front of her.

"You might have to wait; I have a meeting with him. It'll probably take hours." Hermione said, bobbing her head towards the sealed door on the other side of the room.

"I didn't come for a meeting," Draco said. He opened his mouth, after a second, he closed it again.

Hermione observed him, he was well-dressed and groomed as always. His posture was rigid, his shoulders back and chest up, but there was something off about his posture. After a moment, the witch realized that he lacked the arrogant flair he usually portrayed everywhere he went. Yet, the most prominent feature was in his eyes. They reflected determination.

Peculiar. Still not enough to attract her interest.

"Oh, ok." Hermione ignored him by turning her eyes back to the outside scenery, she drew the curtain further aside, letting sunlight streaming into the room.

Draco walked further inside. His steps became muffled by the plum-colored carpet situated in the center.

The brunette could feel the weight of his eyes behind her, it was so obvious that even Ronald would have been able to feel it, she thought with a wry grin. She sneered at his lack of subtlety; her fingers began playing with the border of her sleeve, the index fingers caressed the tip on her wand.

"Who are you?" Draco asked.

A chuckle escaped the girl's tightened jaw; feeling a little of relief, her shoulders became noticeably less tense. Carefully, quick fingers placed her wand back on the sleeve's hostler before she turned around.

She looked at him with a bored expression on her face. "Whatever do you mean, Draco?"

"I saw Greyback." There was a tint of fear in his voice, probably disgust too. It was hard to tell; she hoped was the first one.

"I see" He finally got her attention "Did they send you to pick—?"

"No." A grimace appeared on his face. "I saw him in the cellar." Hermione could see him reliving the memory in his mind.

"Oh." She looked at him expectantly waiting to make his point. She could tell by Draco's expression that he seemed bothered by her lack of reaction.

"So, I'll ask you again, who are you?" Draco asked firmly, convinced of something his mind had created. Because, otherwise, why would he be asking such a weird question?

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. Even though she didn't appreciate the demanding tone in his voice, she smiled. "I still don't understand your question."

"I might have not spent time with Granger at Hogwarts, but the Hermione Granger I knew would never do this. She was a person with only goodness in her. A goody-two-shoes if you will. She would never do something like… like _this_. You are not her." He seemed quite convinced of his words.

She didn't know if all this was fascinating or simply stupid.

_'…__Uh, where have I heard this before? Oh, yes. Once Severus thought it too.'_

"So, you think that I'm what exactly? Another witch or wizard drinking Polyjuice, stealing the real Hermione's hairs for the potions? That sounds a tad stupid, doesn't it? Especially in the long run. And more importantly what would be the purpose?"

"Barty Jr. did it."

Hermione snorted; he had a point there. "That he did."

"And the purpose would be to make her look bad." He explained.

_'__Bad? For what? To frame the real Hermione for murder? For having an allegiance with the Lord? And when the Aurors realize the Hermione Gr…Wait…Uh. That actually…Well, it's bonkers. But in theory seems plausible.'_

"I see you have thought things through." Hermione smiled indulgently. In silence recognizing Draco's theory wasn't as ridiculous as she assumed.

The brunette extended her hand, inviting the boy to take a seat as she proceeded to do the same. Hermione visibly flinched, sucking air through her teeth as her back made contact with the backseat. She closed her eyes, waiting for the waves of pain to fade away.

Draco regarded her with curiosity but did not dare to ask further. Not that he would get an answer from the girl. Taking a seat on the one-piece sofa closest to Hermione, the boy stared at her intently, without the hostility that used to follow.

With a sharp snap of her fingers, a young Elf appeared beside her.

"You called, Miss?" The elf was acquired today, Hermione could almost see the price tag on his forehead. And even if the elf's appearance didn't give it away, this little one didn't know her name; most of the elves used to know her name.

"Bring us two cups of tea. Any tea. Thank you"

"Yes, Miss."

The elves were available for everyone, within limits, of course. It was something she had learned to enjoy.

"Granger was against the servitude of elves," Draco said, looking at her skeptically.

Hermione raised both eyebrows, flashing a smile between amused and incredulous. "I'm surprised you know these little details about me Draco, considering how antagonistic you were with me at Hogwarts." The thing with the Polyjuice potion is that only changed the outward appearance, but never the thoughts of the person someone wished to pretend to be. The brunette decided to cut his suspicions short. "At best, I guess I expected for you to remember calling me mudblood in the second year or perhaps you hitting me with Densaugeo jinx just not so long ago; at worst, you being only able to remember my last name. Never more than that."

And with that, the self-congratulatory look that the blonde boy portrayed when he seemed to have uncovered the faux-Hermione, died. She saw it when those blue eyes changed from confident to perplexed, and then the emotion hid behind the stoic mask that was nothing compared to his mother's.

The boy cleared his throat before speaking again. "What can I say? You were very vocal about elves having rights."

_'__How nice of him to not ask the most obvious and tiring questions.' _Hermione sat still in silent contemplation. _'Indeed, I was very vocal about their rights. At which time the conviction went to die? Probably the same day when to even hear the word goodness made me want to puke.' _

So many turns had happened in her life that had changed her into a completely different person. She had to admit, it was very bizarre to have Draco Malfoy across from her asking her 'who she was' just because the boy wasn't sure if she was Hermione Granger.

No explanation about why she was here was owned, she could just as easily dismiss him and send him away. Antagonize him just as much as he did to her at Hogwarts.

_'__But perhaps…' _Hermione needed a distraction, anything to keep her away from the earlier morning's new developments. She tried not to think if the Lord was going to be furious with her or if Narcissa was willing to keep her word. _'…I'll indulge.'_ The placebo she wasn't looking for, nor wanted, but the only one available.

"I remember being 4 years old when a couple and their daughter moved into a house next to our neighbors." She adopted a distant look, "I can almost clearly recall the day they were moving in, mostly because their daughter was carrying a doll in her arms that, at the time, I was asking my parents to buy me."

Draco reclined on his sit, willing to listen, to what the brunette smiled pleased.

"Days later, I saw her playing with that toy in the local playground. I really wanted to see and maybe, if there was a chance, play with the doll too. So, I approached her. My mother always told me to start with a compliment when meeting someone new. Naturally, the first thing I did was to compliment her on the dress she was wearing. I remember her smiling back at me, but as soon as the smile appeared on her face, it fell. Then she pushed me back, telling me to sod off. You must understand that that's not how muggle children behave. Normally, they are polite, like in wizardry Britain."

The elf appeared with the tray on her hands. The brunette dismissed her as soon as she settled the tea set on the side table next to her. While Hermione enchanted the teapot, cup, and saucers, she continued her story.

"What happened next was that I fell on a small puddle in the sandbox, she is older than me, therefore, she was stronger at that time. I remember crying so much that everyone in the park turned to look at me. Her parents were near there. They immediately scold her; they apologized to me and later to my parents. But Maisie, that's the girl's name, rubbed me the wrong way after that. And I don't say that just because she pushed me, but because she had this look on her face, cold, detached, unfeeling. I used to think she was scary. And I was kind of right, because two months later my parents warned me to stay away from her. Apparently, she had created herself the reputation of being a troublesome kid around the neighborhood. The whispers came, about her pushing one kid into a construction hole. Then I heard another kid had several small burns on his arm, all made by her."

"Once I became older started to wonder, why someone like her has such loving and kind parents and yet seek to cause suffering to others?"

"Maybe she wasn't that bad…" Draco said.

"Oh, trust me, she is. She just has it under control right now."

"The letter to Hogwarts arrived that year, and I forgot all about that family. It was till last year during summer vacation, that I saw her again after so long. I was sitting in the park near my house when she approached me. I must say, that day she looked so normal. That look on her face that used to unnerve me wasn't there anymore. We talked for a moment, idle chat I think because I can hardly remember what it was. But after a few minutes, she bought up her past misdeeds and apologized for what she did to me when we were kids. Then I asked her why she did it. Do you know what she said?"

Draco shook her head.

"She said: 'My prefrontal cortex doesn't work.'"

"What's that?" He asked, rather puzzled.

"Here." Hermione pressed a finger on her forehead "Is something that either you are born with it or not. This part of our heads regulates our behavior. It is the thing that makes you feel guilty when you do something you think is wrong. I think it's what keeps us civilized. People like her could kill her own parents and not feel an ounce of sadness or guilt."

"But she apologized to you because she felt something isn't?"

"That's not it" Hermione replied. "She did it because her parents were watching her and she had to do that exercise which was ordered by her doctor to apologize to those who have wronged, thus that would help her somehow. She chose me because I was closer, that's all, at least that what she told me at the end."

"Can you imagine it? Not feeling any emotion? No sympathy or compassion." The notion of having those qualities was a little tempting. But then she thought of her parents and couldn't fathom the idea to not feel love for them.

"No," Draco mumbled. He seemed to share the same train of thought as Hermione. To become an unfeeling being, if only for a second. Or maybe by chance, he was thinking of his Aunt Bellatrix. Another destructive, unfeeling psychotic monster.

"Neither can I. Yet that day I saw Maisie seemingly well adjusted. When I said that to her, she said that was all thanks to the support of her parents and doctors."

"You see, Draco." Hermione stared intently at him. "I'm telling you this story not because I'm like Maisie, but to teach you this: The people that are beside you, your friends and family, they can stop you or they can make you become a monster. They have the capability to take out the monster that lurks inside some of us. It is the love and care that surrounds us which keeps the monster behind the curtains."

"Can you imagine if Maisie had abusive parents? That instead of love and support, she'd received negligence and even hate. There is no doubt in my mind that she would have turned out very different from what she is right now. The evil monster that she has would have overtaken her. Lucky for her, and for many people if you think about it, she has parents who love her unconditionally."

"I'd like to think that she got the right push in the right direction."

Hermione chuckled darkly, caused by something only she was capable to understand. Her path was built by circumstance and the ill will of her closest allies. This time though, she would create her own circumstances. "As for myself, I got the right push in the wrong direction."

The moment was cut short as the doors that she had been waiting to be opened, finally did. Voldemort's servant came out from the dimmed room. Hermione unconsciously wrinkled her nose. The man always looked dirty even when he wore clean clothes. Not only that bothered her, but his rat-face was also insulting to the brunette's eyesight.

"My Lord will see you now." Said the rat-face man.

Hermione spared one last look to Draco, who watched the whole scene with morbid curiosity, and wondered if she could spill the same level of bullshit to Voldemort, and make up a story just as she did right now.

She stepped inside the Lord's quarters, spotting the man sitting in the center of the room, on the same seat when she came last time weeks ago. He was petting Nagini, talking parseltongue with her.

"Ah, Hermione. I'm surprised you came to see me, so soon." She felt a lump in her throat. "But come on, don't stand there. Sit and tell me why are you here."

_'__So soon…?'_

No, she could not.

It was one thing to lie to a gullible boy, another different thing to lie to Voldemort. Especially if Nagini was present.

For the first time, Hermione wondered if telling the truth would be worse than hiding it. But if he were to discover that she lied to him, there was no room for doubt in her mind that the punishment would be worse than could be if she were to tell the truth.

She'd be a fool to not be afraid of him.

Hermione pulled out her wand from her sleeve and placed it on the center table. Voldemort looked at her with interest. She had rendered herself at his mercy, with the hope that this would speak volumes of her good intentions. Her heart threatened to escape from her ribcage and her throat never felt so dried in her life.

Nagini's head rattled and shudder, bowing forward.

Slowly she swallowed, her throat worked to bring her voice back.

Only took a short glance at those red eyes to understand her position.

_'__He already knows.'_


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione had managed with little effort to jump from her window's bedroom. Strong bipedal paws landed with ease unto the grass down below. Mindful to not being seen by anyone, she passed next to the family's greenhouse that led to the nearest side of the forest, holding her breath as she ran through it. Luck was on her side, for the detection Charms didn't activate. It seemed likely she was allowed into the grounds no matter the shape or form of her body.

The sensation of freedom overtook her as soon as she was surrounded by nothing but trees and untamed wilderness. Perhaps, the lack of freedom to come and leave whenever she desired so, was gradually turning suffocating. And she didn't resent it till now. Despite having not experienced any dull moment in this mansion, the fact that she had to be on her guard all the time was becoming quite exhausting. She missed her autonomy now more than ever.

Being here alone, suddenly felt a new and so welcomed experience.

Shining golden eyes looked around, taking in the scenery. Hermione was amazed by how acute and precise her vision was. Everything was so bright in a place of almost complete darkness. All this time she thought the reason for the brightness was because of the lights in the room or at the dungeons at Hogwarts what allowed her to see clearly. But no, these eyes were made to see in the darkness.

_ '__It'll explain why Lupin never struggled to pursue us in the forest.' _Thinking of Remus didn't bother her as much as before. She still blamed him, and part of her will never entirely forgive him. After all, it was his mistake that triggered this chain of events. But the fact that her stomach didn't boil anymore every time his name would come up in her thoughts was already evidence of some degree of acceptance.

Her gaze drifted downwards; the ground seemed so far now in comparison with her human size. Her long strong paws pressed against soft mud. She enjoyed the cool sensation as the mud simmered through the slits of her paws. There was something otherworldly in feeling the soil under her feet for the first time.

Her paws carried further into the forest. She throttled with her head pointing upwards, smelling the sweet scent of wildflowers and the scent of bitter wood. The smells could almost be tasted on the roof of her muzzle. She could hear the faint squeaks, bellows, and screeches of woodland animals. However, none seemed to be nearby for she couldn't see anything.

Her senses had never been so keen.

Wanting to see what else this body could do; Hermione ran as fast as she could. Her paws kissed the land, branding the ground with the shape of her steps. Wind wiped across her face and brushed through her thick layer of fur. The increasing excitement ran in her veins as her muscles stretched and contracted with every push. With her strong heart and steady breathing, she continued pushing forward.

She moved with such ease as if she has been doing it for a very long time. Which it was strange considering she had never attempted to get acquainted with this body. Did it come by instinct? Like a baby that doesn't understand the concept of crawling. Yet, they do it naturally nonetheless? Hermione wondered.

She woefully regretted the many opportunities she had before to see what this body was able to. She doesn't remember when was the last time she had so much fun without restrictions of any sort.

Everything felt amazing. Regardless of the ubiquitous longing inside her chest, Hermione managed to put it behind for a moment, and completely bask in this new experience.

The sound of flapping wings reached her sensitive ears. The werewolf turned her head upwards. Bats were filtering across her head, making her gradually decreased her speed. She watched the dark and large colony of bats screeching and flying among the trees. Her ears twitched at the sound of insects droning incessantly.

Attracted by the chirping of cicadas, the werewolf stood up in two paws and kept walking till she found herself standing on knee-high grass of an endless forest. The grass still held the warmth of late afternoon sunlight. In the forest's darkness, green tiny lights ignited by the ones and twos. Not a second later, as her body pushed the straight lines of grass, awakening the little insects from its slumber, green lights appeared all around her.

She had never seen so many fireflies gathered in one place. It felt like she was having her own personalize little show of stars. The orchestra of cicadas accompanied the display of lights, and the hoot of the owls chimed in from time to time.

_ '__Incredible…'_

A child-like sense of wonderment filled her chest, enveloping her consciousness. What a foreigner feeling that was! Very strange but not unwelcomed. She embraced it with open arms, for deep in her mind she knew that a feeling like this might never come again, at least not soon. And without any other thought in her mind, she slowly lay down on the grass. Enthralled by the inky sky and its infinite, with bright, flashing stars and planets traveling across space.

Her muscles lost its tightness, kneading the tension away by only lying still. Her heartbeat played a slow rhythmic tune that lulled her into a stage of full relaxation. She didn't know how much time when her eyelids became heavier. In no time she drifted to sleep.

When Hermione opened her eyes again, she saw the moon wasn't in the sky anymore. That could only mean the night was soon to become morning. She needed to go back to her room before the sun came out.

But before the werewolf could take the first step, she realized there was no path to go back to.

She was lost.

Pushing down any twinge of anxiety, Hermione took in a deep breath. The smell of wood and green fill her lungs, but there was something else too lingering in between, she couldn't tell what though. The young witch inhaled deeply again; it was something metallic, like iron maybe. Being the only clue to find her way back, Hermione followed the smell.

She looked up to the sky again; there wasn't any sign that sunlight was about to come out soon. Stars kept shining, but not that bright either. The sense of urgency started to creep into Hermione. She kept moving hastily, not willing to risk being transformed back in the wilderness.

The smell started to become more intense as Hermione approached.

There a was worn path with the tall grass and the small plants on both sides were roughly mangled, her instincts told her that something or someone passed by recently, but the smell were many to distinguish which one belonged to what exactly. When stepped on the path, she flinched at the little sharp things incrusting in her paws. Hermione saw what it seemed like several pieces of dried but pointy bark scattered all over. Like someone was purposely removed the bark from the trees.

The werewolf took a deep breath again. The air smelled of dirt and food, something akin to butter. Perhaps bread. Another breath, even deeper this time. The fur in her neck stood up by instinct, Hermione growled as she recognized the metallic smell. It wasn't iron like she thought at the beginning. It was copper.

The tang of blood.

She looked around, searching for another telling of what might lie ahead of, but she found none. Driven by curiosity and lack of direction, the werewolf ventured forward.

Her ears twitched at the faint noises of whimpers. The little cries of something or someone became clearer with every step she took forward.

Hermione prostrated herself in four legs and approached carefully. A gust of wind ran through her body and with it a foul stench. She froze in place, pointing her snout upwards, she breathed in once more. The acrid smell was barely tolerable.

It smelled of the dead, cut flesh, and the pungent smell of body stench.

Death smelled as if the very odor itself penetrated her nostrils and tried to scoop the insides of her face.

The werewolf flashed her sharp teeth in recognition of the body stench.

_ '…__Greyback!'_

It was the small human-like cry what drove the girl to approach closer. She put her paws on the ground with the grace of a feline stalking her prey, mindful to no step on dried leaves or twigs. Not a moment later, her eyes became bigger as she drank the sight before her. A werewolf, of grey almost white fur, stood up in two legs, with its arm raised on the air holding an almost dying elf hanging from between his fingers.

Her eyes drifted at the ground, where tiny little elves' corpses, some limbless, others headless lied next to his paws. Yellow eyes narrowed, studying from afar that none of the bodies were eaten, not even gnawed. Yet, the blood was still gushing from a couple of them. Greyback dismembered them as some sort of sick entertainment.

The whole scenery was utterly gruesome, this was a new level of cruelty that she never imagined could ever exist.

Despite the overwhelming stench of blood and the disgusting smell of Greyback, Hermione could barely detect it, but it was there in the air. The smell of spices and roast. Those elves used to work in the kitchens. The little one hanging from Greyback's hand had the distinctive smell of sweet bread. Hermione noticed that his free arm was broken, making it impossible for him to do apparition.

_'__He probably broke everyone's hands before becoming a werewolf.' _

Horror and terror were on the little elf's face. He shut his big eyes tightly as Greyback enclosed his fragile neck between his long claws. Just when Hermione thought he was about to rip off his head, the werewolf stopped.

Hemione, confused by this, observed with interest. Her ears moved at the sound of the grey maned werewolf taking in short sniffs multiple times before she could realize what was happening. Greyback turned around only to set his black eyes on her.

Anger at herself was the first emotion to invade her for being too stupid_. 'If I can smell him, he can smell me…' _But then it quickly morphed to fear.

The werewolf released the elf from his grip, his frail body fell onto the rest corpses. Greyback's savage eyes focused on the girl. Hermione saw recognition flashing on his bright eyes. He knew who she was. And yet, his threatening demeanor didn't diminish in the slightest. On the contrary, Greyback opened his mouth displaying his deadly teeth into what seemed a menacing grin. There were streams of saliva running down his lower jaw to the floor.

Hermione growled in warning. Instinctively, she raised hackles to make herself look bigger. She flashed her equally sharp teeth and showed her claws by extending her arms.

The younger werewolf growled again, loudly this time. But the only thing she earned was a mocking snort.

Though Hermione's claws were long and sharp, they were nothing compared to Greyback's, his claws were twice as long, thicker and sharper. Two sets of deadly weapons, held by two strong limps. Greyback's bulky size overshadowed hers with ease.

For every step the grey werewolf took, she took one step behind. Hermione knew she wasn't a match for him. At least, not in this body. If he wanted to kill her, there was nothing stopping him from doing it.

Sensing the deadly intent in those eyes, adrenaline-filled she turned around and ran.

She ran as fast as she could. Her eyes drifted upwards. The grey of dawn was already in the sky.

She didn't need to look back to know Greyback was approaching fast, as his foul stench became more pronounced by the second. Her legs pushed abruptly to the right, taking a sharp turn on the left. Her first thought was to go back to the mansion, but she didn't know where to go. There wasn't any landmark on her sight that could guide her, and the only smell she could sense was the stench on the wolf behind her.

Her heart hammed against her chest. Panic was cursing through her body, halting any rational thought but to stay alive whatever the cost.

Feeling his presence almost at her talons again, Hermione took another sharp turn. This time, as her limps tilted 30° to press against the ground and impulse on the contrary direction, she caught a glimpse of sharp claws almost grasping her head. If she hasn't lowered her head at the last moment, Fenrir would have managed to severely hurt her at the very least. Because he was so close to catching her, the grey werewolf lost his balance, rolling against the ground.

Having been able to put a little distance between them, Hermione launched her body to a tree, desperately clawing her way up. Her claws pierced the bark, pieces were shot like water when it sprinkles, all in different directions. Her breath was ragged, but not from lack of oxygen. She was never felt so vulnerable. Desperation and fear fueled her efforts to climb, but ultimately, she was too slow.

Everything happened so fast that she barely registered the strong grip of his hands pulling her down, and in a quick move, his claws painfully scratched her back. By his strength alone she was dragged down and threw on across the opposite side. She landed against a large rock incrusted in the ground.

Hermione howled at the impact.

She blinked several times, trying to dispel the blurry vision. Her feet scramble on the ground, urging her body to stand up and run. She stood up as fast as she could, balancing her weight while her eyesight slowly recovered from the dizziness.

Greyback watched her struggling with cruel amusement in his eyes, she could smell it, taste it even. There was blood in his fangs, dripping from his chin. He licked his claws for some reason Hermione didn't understand.

He was having fun with her, just like he had fun with the elves.

The werewolf lunged forward with one arm aiming at her. It a successive movement the girl used her claws to throw dust from the ground into Fenrir's eyes. Blinding him momentarily, she took this chance to run. Hermione focused on her surroundings again, there was nothing but the sound of running water on her left side.

A clearing and a small creek came in sight, she ran next to the stream knowing it passed close to the mansion's grounds, all she needed was to follow it. Fear was feeding the adrenaline in her body, unable to feel anything but terror.

Hermione looked behind her as she ran. There weren't any signs that Greyback was following her. She took no relief on that as her instincts kept screaming to keep running. Her eyes looked up to the sky, sunlight was about to come anytime now. The young witch continued running as fast as her limps allowed her to, no hesitating in speed.

_ '__If I can make to the mansion then I can…Just a little longer.'_

Out of nowhere, a strong force came from her right and collided against her. It knocked her to the ground; she rolled several times before she came to a stop. The girl made the effort to push herself up, but before she could even raise her head, Greyback was already on top of her. He grabbed her by the neck, then dragged her violently to the water stream.

Before Hermione could see where he was dragging her, the young werewolf was already submerged in water. She kicked, clawed and pushed, whatever she could do to escape his grip. What she could only do was to watch the air leaving her lungs. Fenrir had a large part of his weighing down her body.

After a few seconds, he pulled out her head only to submerge it again.

The more she struggled; the more Fenrir's grip on her neck tightened. The horrible sensation of water entering her lungs raised the panic in her body. She felt close to drowning, but Greyback pulled her out again. Then, he pushed her again.

Fear like this, colder than ice and holding her heart in a vice grip. The blood in her veins felt like it was coated in black ice. Her stomach was iron, heavy, and solid. As if death, the thing, the person she has been eluding for so long wished to greet her for a final time. She felt all this before. So many times she has feared for her life, so many times she was at the edge of life and death. This would not be the last one. This was nothing, _nothing…_

_'__NOTHING!'_

_'__I WON'T DIE!'_

Hermione clawed the arms that were holding her, piercing the thick skin with her claws, blood started to drip. Greyback was about to hit back when the first rays of light appeared in the sky. And with that, the transformation began, his limps started to become less sharp and human, his weight and strength rapidly decrease, Hermione could feel it. She quickly flexed her hindleg, then with a short but strong kick on his chest, she pushed him away from her. At that very moment, the transformation began in her body as well.

Hermione crawled out of the creek, curving herself in a spine wrecking cough fit. Water still lingered in her lungs. Spatters of saliva and water continue falling from her mouth till she transformed back to her original body

Greyback was already on his feet, he clutched his chest tightly, while blood dribbled between his chest and the palm of his hand, it went down all the way to his crotch. Another trail of blood ran from his wrist to his elbow. Hermione turned to look at him, his demeanor hadn't changed in slightest, the man had a vicious look in his eyes. He licked his lips lasciviously, looking her up and down like a piece of meat, his tongue licked over his bloodied teeth.

"I told you." He rasped as if there were dust in his voice. "Sooner or later I was going to get even, but now I—" A flame hit him on the chest, charring his skin just like Hermione had done in her hand during her training with Bellatrix. He howled in pain, stepping backward, pushed by the pain and the force of the impact. Black eyes widened in shock, not expecting the wandless magic.

Quickly, his face morphed into rage, almost matching the dislocated look on the girl. His eyes narrowed as he saw the girl raising her arm again, sensing another attack Greyback ran and launched himself at her, his arm extended ready to neutralize the girl's hand.

From the tip of her finger, a light-blue jet came out, sharp like a dagger. It happened so fast that it took him seconds to realize what she had done.

His arm was severed. It fell with a soft thud on the ground.

If there was any howl of pain, she never heard it. If there was blood sprinkling on her face, she never felt it. Her voice, loud as the roar of a lion, and with her eyes fixed on the target, Hermione pronounced the next spell.

"Diffindo!"

This time the cut draw vertically on his chest a perfectly straight line, it wasn't deep yet enough to stagger any step forward he wished to take. The witch pushed the man to the ground by another swift motion of her finger.

Calmly, she approached the struggling body on the ground. She loomed over him, gazing down with hate and disgust. She watched his mouth being filled with his own blood, quickly coming out from the corner of his lips.

He bared his teeth painted with blood, then opened his mouth as if he was trying to speak out loud, but the gushing blood escaping from it hindered any of speech.

His eyes became bigger as the girl's feet loomed above his neck. The same eyes almost bulged out of his skull as the girl stepped on it multiple times, her heel digging deep, pushing the Adam apple. Her vicious kicks stopped till she heard the soft crack of his collapsed trachea. Gurgling sounds were the only noise he could make in a futile attempt to gasp for air.

Brown eyes never strayed from the desperate, fearful ones as she pointed her finger at him. Then, Hermione hit him with all she had. Her arm moved in the air like an Orchestra's director does when they are playing a rapid melody. Up and down, left and right. Her finger moved with precision and strength, her wrist with grace and ease. She burned and cut him. She did it till her arm hurt. Till the emotion of how indefensible and pathetic he made her feel was erased from her present consciousness. Till the panic that still gripped her heart finally decided to release its hold. Till the moment Hermione felt she had recovered her position of power, that's when she stopped.

If there was any moment during her attacks, that Greyback managed to utter a word, if he begged for mercy, Hermione never heard it. For she could only hear the beating of her heart and the sound of her voice casting spell after spell.

She stared at his face. Until the light of his fearful eyes faded away, leaving an empty body behind.

Slowly, she turned around. Her steps were short but firm. Suddenly, the so marvelous feeling of cool mud under her soils became more of an irritating sensation, something that no one should experience.

The running water felt cold to her feet. She sat in it and looked the water wash away the blood on her body.

To Hermione, it felt like the air itself had rushed out of the room after she finished her side of the story. There was a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away no matter how many times she swallowed. She didn't know what to expect from Voldemort, but she knew it wouldn't be a pat on the back.

* * *

"Greyback was very violent. A savage animal of sorts. That was the main reason why I wanted him in my front lines." Piercing red-eyes set on her. "Nevertheless, he never attacked one of mine. Ever."

As her gaze dropped to the carpet, she tried to swallow again that cotton on her throat. Right now, not even water could bring relief to her dried throat. She understood how bad it looked for her from the outsider's perspective. While she ended up having some injuries, there was no point of comparison for what Greyback received in retaliation. It was hard to explain her actions at this point, without looking completely innocent.

As if Voldemort had read her mind, he added. "Lucius came before you, he filled me on what he saw. He mentioned the body was hard to recognize."

"My Lord, I swear to you that everything I did was in self-defense." Her words uttered with utmost sincerity yet didn't earn any reaction from the man in front of her, who remained displeased at her actions. "But if you doubt of my words, I'll lower my Occlumency shields for you to see yourself." Hermione dug her nails into her palms, scared to have Voldemort's presence in her mind. But if there was a chance that could free her of punishment, she was willing to submit herself to the probably painful experience.

But when she raised her head to face him, Voldemort wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking down at the snake on his lap. The dark wizard's lips moved ever so lightly. His fingers barely touch the scales of the snake's skin, she found it mesmerizing how he touched her so delicately, almost like a lover.

There was nothing she could do or say but sit still and watch the subtle exchange between master and pet. Watching them like this, Hermione wondered how much influence had Nagini over Voldemort.

When his sight returned to the girl's direction, the expression on his face had slightly faded.

"Did something else happened?" He asked.

* * *

There were things that Hermione wasn't aware of. She didn't know that her hands were shaking, in contrast with the apparent calmness on her face. She was sure the only injury she had was a small bruise on her back and not the angry open wound that she actually had. Neither was she aware that there was a bite in her forearm which begged for medical attention. And more importantly, she never heard the distinctive sound of apparition a few meters from her. Nor the loud gasp that came seconds after.

Silent steps a blonde woman approached the girl sitting in the water. Her eyes remained fixed on the small body, for her mind couldn't bear to gaze at the dismembered body a few meters from her.

"Granger..." Her voice was soft, almost tentative.

Blue eyes searched for the girl's face. Which she hid behind a curtain of wet brown hair, where mud and dried leaves had made a home. Her pale body was painted with red marks, purple bruises and open wounds. Very slowly, Narcissa kneeled beside the girl, and put aside her brown hair. The girl's expression was drawn with an eerie calmness, but her eyes betrayed her brittle confidence. Exhaustion was present in those brown orbs, there was more blackness than brown inside those eyes. Said eyes were rimmed with red and gray.

Narcissa has seen it before, in her husband and in her sister. By now she could recognize it in anyone by a mile away.

The aftershocks of battle. Sometimes not even the most seasoned wizards could avoid such jarring feelings that the fights often brought after.

Hermione came back to reality blinking away whatever thoughts clouded her mind. She turned to look at the woman and stared at her for what felt a long time as if she was trying to discern whether or not she was hallucinating.

"What are you doing here?" There was no emotion in her voice. There was nothing else betraying in her face that didn't already her eyes betrayed.

Narcissa extended her hand, an invitation to get out of the water. Hermione untangled her arms and accepted the help. As the girl stepped outside, Narcissa's eyes went bigger at the mark of teeth on the brunette's forearm. "Did he bite you?!" She asked with alarm in her voice.

The girl looked at the bite on her right limp, it was relatively shallow but it still managed to break the skin. And just for a second, the thought of pretending to be equally or even more surprised than Narcissa crossed her mind.

But the lie could carry her only so far.

Hermione was so exhausted from all this.

"Yeah… I think he did." She said, not sharing the same worried face that the woman had.

"Don't you realize what this means? Granger, I don't have anything to stop the infection of lycanthropy. The only one is Severus and you cannot go to an hospi—"

"It's fine. I'm fine."

Narcissa stopped rambling at the unfazed expression the brunette maintained. Up to that moment, her gaze finally drifted from the girl's face. She looked at the girl's body up and down. Then, she took one short glance at what was supposed to be Greyback's body.

The blonde woman took a step back, her eyebrows slightly raised. "You are already infected with lycanthropy." Her voice was no more than a whisper. Confusion and shock were painted on her features. Her lips moved in silence as if she was about to speak, but in the end, she gave up.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "That'll explain why I'm naked." An attempt to smile was made, but a grimace took shape on her lips instead. The girl pressed her lips into a thin line, as an attempt to hide the shivers caused by the cold.

It'll be months later that she was willing to recognize that the origin of those tremors was because she was afraid.

Narcissa, finally broke out from her daze, quickly undid the knot on her neck and removed her cloak, then place it on the girl's back. "Let's go. Your injuries need treatment."

Considering how unnerving this all was, for the first time, the brunette didn't argue.  
Her body and mind craved for at least a little respite before she did anything else. "I want to go to my room."

Narcissa kept silent, she pulled the wand from her pocket. In a blink, they were outside of Hermione's room.

"I set extra anti-apparition charms and jinxes since I arrived." The girl weakly said, anticipating Narcissa's inquisitive gaze of why she couldn't apparate inside a room from her own house.

Once she crossed the threshold, Hermione headed to the bathroom "I'm going to clean myself." She didn't wait for a reply.

As soon as the door was closed. Like a punch in the stomach, reality hit her; finally breaking all her barriers of self-control and strong will. They crashed like crystals in the face of her consciousness. In two large steps, she was grasping the sink, using the cold edges as support while her stomach emptied itself.

It is amazing what a body can resist when it is filled with adrenaline, seconds ago she felt relatively fine. But now that her body finally stopped pumping that lifesaving chemical and her heart rate returned to normal, her body was started to suffer the burnout of her fight and the traumatic experience of almost dying, again.

Hermione was dry-heaving, but waves nausea kept coming. Despite having no food to throw, her stomach kept convulsing till yellow-colored saliva came out.

The pain came striking from all sides. Though it was hardly a walk in the park to have her back scratched, a bite in her arm and several bruises, she noticed that her tolerance to pain was getting better and better.

She inhaled and exhaled, then closed her eyes and waited for the waves to reside.

She inhaled and exhaled, then closed her eyes and waited for the waves to fade.

She breathed again, deeper, calmer.

Brown eyes opened; she was greeted by her own reflection. Her hands gripped the edge tightly, till her knuckles turned white. She looked into the mirror as if she didn't recognize the person in there. She was 16 years old but felt like she aged 10 years in a short span of 3 months. She didn't look like a teenager anymore.

Her eyelids closed again, flashes of Greyback being butchered by her cursed through her mind.

_'__What happened...What did I do?'_

"I killed Greyback…" She murmured. "I killed Greyback because he tried to kill me."

Her mind felt dizzy, disoriented, her thoughts were disjointed and barely coherent. All the raw emotions were stepping on her abdomen. She sat on the edge of the bathtub. Her hands ran through her head were mud and leaves hanged in among her hair. She didn't care. Her mind was measuring the consequences of her actions, seeing all the possible outcomes that her brain could come up with.

The throbbing in her chest didn't help either, now that she remained unmoving, it was becoming harder to ignore. Fortunately for her when she reached the lowest drawer under the sink, there was a small vial to numb her.

A sudden knock on the door startled her. "Miss Granger, is everything alright?"

Narcissa was in her room…

A cold shiver ran from the nape of her neck to her heels. The gut-wrenching sensation came back doubled.

Narcissa saw her.

_'__Narcissa knows!' _

"Y-Yes! I-I'll be out in a moment."

"Do you need clothes?"

"No. It is fine."

_'__I'm fine, everything is bloody fine!' _

She eyed the shower. "I'll be out in 5 minutes."

* * *

With her hand on the doorknob, Narcissa had half-mind to enter and truly verify if the girl was indeed fine. The thought died once she heard the shower running.

With a heavy sigh, she stepped back. She clasped her fingers, calling her personal elf.

"Filqui."

The small elf appeared in a blink of an eye; ready to take her mistress orders.

"How may Filqui serve you, mistress?"

The blonde woman regarded her personal elf and the hunching posture she carried. The tired eyes and the fallen ears said everything. The elf was mourning the loss of her friends. "Bring me a Garrow Potion and some Amadoubil with two cloths." She took a quick glance at the bathroom door. "After that, go and tell my husband to send someone to clean werewolf remains. It is northeast from here, just tell him to follow the creek up north."

With a nod and a soft 'pop', the elf left the room.

As the sound of falling water continued, Narcissa survey around her guest's living quarters. Her eyes were filled with curiosity and a certain reservation. The largest window was fully open, the lower end of the curtain had a stain of moisture usually caused by the morning dew. One flip of her hand to the left and the window closed. She walked towards the oval pattern that was covered by the curtain's drapes. Her hand reached for the thinly veiled fabric and pulled down to uncover the cheval mirror. Meeting with nothing but her own reflection, she turned her body, noticing that the two smalls mirrors on her vanity were face down too.

There were little to none personal belongings on top of the vanity and dresser, at least nothing that wasn't books or related materials. No photos, or another sort of sentimental object. There was a pair of muggle shoes placed at the foot of the bed. And some, probably dirty, muggle clothes on the floor next to the shoes. However, the girl's robe rested on the bed carefully folded.

Narcissa's curious eyes wandered across the girl's working place. Although it was tidy than before, the mess was still present; Piled up books, parchment, and ink pots scattered over the table and other surfaces. Misplaced potion ingredients here and there. At last, some of those ingredients started to make sense to Narcissa. Most of them were used for the concoction of Wolfsbane potion. Aconite, silver dust, moonseed; all very expensive ingredients, how peculiar was that the girl seemed to have a large supply of them.

"How does she afford it?"

Accidentally, her feet stumbled on a medium-sized wooden chest. The metal bands were rusty, yet the locking mechanism looked recently bought. Her eyebrows rose when she noticed the lock wasn't actually closed. Narcissa glanced up at the bathroom door. The door was still closed. Once she tried to open the chest, a strong shock ran through her hand. Narcissa removed her hand in record time at the first feeling of electricity running in her limp. To leave a second more would have been dangerous.

"Blood charms. Smart girl." The woman muttered under her breath.

A pile of books rested next to the tea table, between the two sofas. She reached for the one on top. It read: _Werewolves: Uncivilized Beasts._ She took the next one _Lycanthropy and its origins. _

She frowned slightly at the sight of the next book's title. It was slightly odd; _Veela's mating rituals._

But before she could think more of it, something else caught her attention. A book among many scattered, it seemed recently used. It was big and heavy like a tome, with wrinkled parchment next to it. As if the girl had recently had taken notes, but then discarded them for some unknown reason.

_The unbreakable boundaries of magic: Life, death, money— A comprehensive study of magic and its limitations._

She picked up the book; it was heavier than she expected it to be. Specks of dust were accumulated inside of its spine. Most of the brown leather that protected its pages, was falling into pieces. Narcissa proceeded to see take a seat on the lengthy sofa next to her. She gingerly flipped its pages. In contrast with the exterior, the interior seemed well-cared for. The smell of coffee and vanilla touched her nostrils, as well as fresh ink. She noticed that some sections had side notes recently written_._

_The boundaries of life and its creation…_

_…__Life cannot be harnessed, once extracted from its original body, vitality itself will vanish into the veil. However, there are registers of dark artifacts being able to… _

"How did you find me?" The sudden voice broke her concentration.

* * *

If Narcissa was startled by the interruption, she didn't show it. The woman calmly placed the book on the table and turned to the girl in acknowledgment.

Hermione stood outside the bathroom, dressed in a thick bathrobe. She looked more like herself than moments ago.

"An elf, that I believe you inadvertently saved, came to me. He told me what happened and how he came to be free. He said that the last thing he saw was Greyback pursuing another werewolf into the forest. As soon as the sun came about. I went out to look smite the man myself."

'_How is it that every time something happens to me, you seem to appear all of a sudden?'_

The question was on the tip of Hermione's tongue, urging to be voiced out. Yet, her conscience wouldn't let her. It felt wrong to be downright suspicious when Narcissa has done nothing wrong.

Adding the fact that yesterday's talk didn't go well for both, didn't help her case in favor of utter those words. So she swallowed them.

An elf apparated next to Narcissa, one vial, and pieces of cloth were handed to the blonde woman. Without any word, the elf left as quick as she arrived.

Anticipating Narcissa's intentions, she walked to the sofa and sat next to her.

"Show me your back." The older woman said, handing the vial to the girl. "Recline your back forward."

Hermione could feel something humid and warm reaching her skin. She guessed it was steam. What followed after was the intense smell of Amadoubil invading the air.

_'__Merlin. This is going to hurt…' _

Hermione sucked air through her teeth at the contact; the cloth was too hot. She bent her back like a cat as the brown liquid filled her wound. Her back burned and itched at the same time.

"Can't you use Episkey?" Her voice was slightly grumpy.

"No, the wounds are too deep. It'll only close the…"

"…The skin on top, and not the muscle inside, which could lead to an infection or worse. Episkey is only for small bruises, cuts, or disjointed limps. It mustn't be used for anything else." The words fell from her mouth bulky, awkward. As though someone had stuffed them in her mouth. "Yeah..." She chuckled "Madam Pomfrey was very energetic about the correct use."

Hermione hissed again as the reheated cloth pressed tightly on her skin. Blood and Amadoubil mixed together ran down all the way to the girl's lower back only be absorbed by the withe robe. She tried to curved her back again, but this time Narcissa grabbed her firmly by the shoulder. "Stop moving, Miss Granger." Her voice was stern, like a mother scolding her child.

"How are you feeling?" Narcissa inquired after a few moments.

Hermione had too many things in her mind at once, so many ideas and possibilities that couldn't form into sentences. She felt too many things at the same time, fear mostly. Her mind was muddled by what had happened in the last hours. Thankfully her little time in the shower served to cement herself properly at the moment and to regain a modicum of control.

"I'm fine." Hermione bit her lip, at the sound of her own voice. It definitely didn't come out as 'fine'. She cleared her throat this time. "A little bit shaken I guess, but fine nonetheless."

The inner layers of skin started to merge together, provoking an acute pain in her back. Hermione almost jolted up from the sofa. "Do. Not. Move!" Said Narcissa, holding the girl in her place. "This is my last batch of this plant, don't waste it."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful. It just too uncomfortable."

"I believe the ungrateful part has been already covered, Miss Granger. All I'm asking is for you to stop behaving like a child." Narcissa spoke in her usual detached tone.

Feeling the strings of guilt being played in her heart, Hermione bit her lip. "You are right. I'm sorry." She closed her eyes, working up the words she wished to convey with honesty. "I- I want to apologize for what I said to you yesterday. I never meant it" She looked behind her shoulder, searching for the woman's eyes. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm really sorry."

"The arm," Narcissa said, not meeting the girl's gaze.

Hermione corrected her posture in such a way that Narcissa was sitting next to her. She carefully pulled out her arm from the bathrobe, ripples of pain cursed on her arm with every motion.

Not being punishment enough, Narcissa put more pressure than was necessary on the brunette's wound, making her hiss loudly.

"And yet you said them," Her voice was biting cold.

"I know, and I'm sor—"

"I trust you are capable of taking care of this." Said the blonde, indicating to Hermione to press the cloth on the injury. Hermione understood that her apologies were not wanted nor needed. So, she shut up and paid attention to her arm.

Narcissa stepped away from Hermione. When she turned around with her arms crossed over her chest, Hermione drank in the woman's appearance for the first time since they met today. She looked beautiful.

The blonde wore a simple yet elegant cobalt blue dress; it was conservative like many of her garments. Few loose silk-like strands of hair fell on her shoulders. The golden lines contrasted with the color of the fabric, making look like the top of the dress had needlework made of gold. The way she had fixed her hair told the girl it was done with haste, but her clothes and shoes told her that the woman wore nothing but tasteful attires even when she had the intention, like she said, to smite a man. Leave it to Narcissa that even in hasty situations she wore nothing but fashionable clothes.

Brown eyes connected with the blue ones; they were equally studying her as the owner sat in front of her. Sighing internally, she prepared for the storm of questions that were coming.

"What happened today, Miss Granger? And spare me the lies this time." Narcissa's eyes were measuring. Ready to analyze every word that was about to come out of the girl's mouth.

_'__I don't even know exactly.'_

"I went out for a run deep into the forest…" Her fingers pressed tightly on her wounded arm. Several shivers ran all over her body, this time the reason wasn't because of the Amadoubil entering her flesh.

Hermione explained everything she could recall. Completely omitting the little but critical detail of why actually she left the room in the first place.

"Did he recognize you? That moment when he saw you, I mean."

"Yes, he did, at least I think so. I believe my smell gave it away."

"And once you both turned human, he still went after you?"

_'__Not exactly.'_

"Yes," Hermione replied convincingly. It wasn't the time to doubt what happened during her moment of rage. Perhaps later, in the solitude of her room, she'll revisit that memory that lacked details.

"He never uttered word?"

"Does growling counts as speaking?" The brunette cracked a smile but wasn't well-received by the blonde, who remained unamused. Internally, she rolled her eyes "I didn't stop to have a conversation with him if that's what you are asking."

Narcissa didn't react at the girl's snappy reply. The defensiveness in her words came more biting that she intended to. Afraid that Narcissa might see it as a telling sign that she wasn't being entirely honest. "Honestly, I don't understand what he was trying to accomplish."

"He had a grudge against you, for what you did to him."

"And what was that?" Hermione scoffed "For being an accidental target from a spell I barely remember to cast?"

"That, and you antagonize him the night he confronted you."

"That doesn't justify him doi—"

"I'm not saying it does. However, I saw multiple times that when you both crossed paths, you sneered at him. No exception." The usual cold tone grew suggestive. "You clearly disliked him."

Hermione frowned, not appreciating what the woman's implication in that statement. "He attacked me still thinking I was defenseless! I didn't throw the first bite or spell if that's what you are insinuating."

Then, she paused for a moment, conceding Narcissa's statement. "But yes, you could say that…" She shrugged her shoulders, wincing after the action. The wound on the back protested at the motion, although almost closed the flesh remained very tender. "Ugh... Considering the actual state of his body I know what you must think, but—"

"I believe you, Miss Granger" Narcissa interrupted. "You were in shock not a few moments ago. No one can fake that. And seeing you now, I'm honestly surprised you can pretend that nothing happened." Narcissa extended her hand, silently asking for the cloth on the girl's arm. Like the other piece, she vanished into thin air. "But you'll ever be so lucky if the Dark Lord believes your story and lets you walk out of punishment."

* * *

"I approached Mrs. Malfoy, so she could help me treat my injuries. After that, I came to see you, my Lord." It wasn't lying, Hermione convinced herself. She just didn't want to bore the man with so many details.

A small smile appeared on his lips. Every time he did it, goosebumps appeared in her arms. "Ah, dear Narcissa, has she been treating you well? I understand she can be quite… disdainful towards her not-so-equals."

"I'm must be lucky, then." Hermione returned the smile "She has been nothing more than a gracious hostess to me, my Lord."

* * *

"I'll ask you not to tell anyone about my Lycanthropy problem, please," Hermione asked, while she adjusted the last buttons of her blouse. Her request has politely uttered, without any hint of urgency that the cells in her body vibrated with. Her mother always told her to not show when something was wished to be acquired because from that moment the man or woman who owned it could raise its value. She considered the same principle applied here. The brunette could only hope that Narcissa wouldn't share this with anyone. If not, it'll bring her a headache that she definitely didn't need.

Hermione stopped looking at herself in the mirror and turned around to see Narcissa.

The blonde was perusing over the girl's working desk, examining the few ingredients she had on display.

"Tell me, Miss Granger. Do you do your own wolfsbane draught?" She asked while she held the dried aconite flower between her fingers. Then slowly she approached it to her nose, clearly enjoying the sweet aroma.

"…Yes." Hermione eyed her suspiciously.

"Impressive." Her tone didn't match the compliment. At the same time, the brunette couldn't discern if she meant it or not.

When their eyes finally met; Hermione noticed the change almost immediately. Those blue eyes had turned into dried ice. Something told her that she wouldn't like what was coming.

"Draco got his first task." The words were softly spoken, yet to Hermione, it sounded more ominous than anything else. "He needs help to complete it."

The flower was tucked carefully in a glass recipient.

"I want you to help him." Narcissa's glare remained firmly fixed at Hermione.

_'__Want. Because a pureblood never asks. They demand.'_ Hermione's stomach tightened; anger was already making itself known in the pit of her gut. "And if I refuse?" She asked, thrusting her nose into the air.

The blonde pressed her lips very lightly as a response to the girl's defensiveness. Her sight dropped to the table where the books of lycanthropy she took earlier were placed.

"So, you want to blackmail me." A dry chuckle came out from her lips. The muscles of her face tensed at seeing how fast Narcissa was willing to play dirty. _'She couldn't even wait a day.'_

_'__How desperate must she be to step this low?'_

Surely the Malfoy family wasn't past blackmailing others. After all, rich families like them dabbed in politics and what was politics but filled with a bunch of backstabbing aspiring aristocrats. No, Hermione concluded, the new low for Narcissa had to be the need to blackmail a muggleborn thinking that otherwise said muggle-born won't be willing to help.

"Why don't you ask your sister? I'm sure she would be willing to help you."

"Bella can't help him." Said dismissingly

Behind the impenetrable ice-shield that Narcissa put on display, the brunette could feel the self-contained apprehensiveness irradiating from the woman's body. She knew that Lucius and Narcissa had been losing sleep since Draco got his task. That was at least 3 weeks ago when she had an unsavory encounter with Lucius. They have been doing everything in their power and yet they couldn't find any relief. Otherwise, she wouldn't be having this conversation with Narcissa.

She sneered; the brunette couldn't care less what was the son's task.

"And what about Snape, after all, he is Draco's—" She clenched her jar abruptly as another question resurfaced in her mind. "…Since when?"

"Since when what, Miss Granger?" Her features remained impassive at the hissing voice.

"Since when have you been bidding your time?"

A flash of understanding crossed over the blue eyes.

"It's all over your face." Hermione pointed out.

"That night when you offered to treat my injury. After I asked you why were you helping me, I thought you were lying. I thought you wanted something from me. Did it start from there?"

"No." The woman sighed "It was the night when I found you with Severus."

Hermione could ask Narcissa if Severus knew about Draco's task. But she knew that would be useless, for she already knew the answer to that question. Severus was a close friend of the Malfoys, and more importantly Draco's Godfather. She could bet her own wand that Severus was the first man to be requested for help.

And that was what it didn't feel right to her. The brunette started pacing around the room in silent contemplation. Her mind wandered, placing all the possibilities on the burgundy walls of her room. Her eyes darted rapidly across the wallpaper as if her thoughts were written all over.

_'__Could this be related…?'_

It seemed too far-fetched, even in the privacy of her own mind. And yet, the more she thought about it, things started to make more sense. At least the time-line matched, but that could only be a coincidence.

Or not.

Severus Snape was clever and manipulative; nothing he did or said wasn't without a purpose. The fact that he deliberately told Narcissa a lie he knew she wouldn't believe, was not an accident at all. Hermione _knew_ this.

But then, what was his intention? What did he gain by lying? What was he planning? That she didn't know, and yet she couldn't help but find it related it to this.

_'__What does he gain for Narcissa to be suspicious of…me?'_

Her mouth slightly opened, inhaling air as her heart rate rose gradually. The brunette didn't know whether to smile and admire his cleverness or to snarl and tear everything apart in a tantrum.

"He sent you to me…" Hermione whispered.

She pushed down every emotion that threatened to tear her semblance of calmness. Hermione's focus returned to Narcissa, who seemed confused by the girl's sudden change of behavior. Brown eyes narrowed "You asked Severus to help Draco, and he refused you."

Aware that she wasn't making any sense, Hermione tried again. "Severus deliberately lied to you, knowing very well you won't believe him. That very lie led you to believe that I had something worth to be paid attention to. He manipulated you."

Narcissa's forehead wrinkled, ever so lightly while she connected the girl's words with her own experience.

"Obviously, he didn't plan for this specific situation to happen!" Hermione continued. "No one could have foreseen this! But he trusted that you will pay more attention to my behavior from that moment on. And eventually, you'd had figured it out all by yourself."

He knows about your curse…" Narcissa had finally caught up with the girl's train of thought.

"He does."

"Why wouldn't he just tell me?"

"Who knows how his mind works." She flipped her hand dismissively.

Hermione clearly understood why. If Severus have told Narcissa directly, that would have been a breach of their verbal agreement. And that'd be a betrayal, one that he cannot afford. But this technicality wasn't a breach, and Severus exploited beautifully.

Like many times before, she wondered if it was a mistake telling Severus the whole truth. The reason she told in the first place was that she needed someone to tell her side of the story or at least to know what really happened. Someone who was close to Dumbledore, who worked with him. Someone to know what kind of man was the headmaster of Hogwarts. And that man happened to be Severus.

Hermione had believed that Severus knowing her real circumstances eventually would turn up beneficial. But at this moment that conviction wavered, again.

"Be as it may, he was confident that you knowing will provide you the right tools for me to help you whether I wish it or not."

The more the brunette thought about it, the less she found flaws in the man's logic. She had to admire how utterly subtle of him. _'He must be very intimately acquainted with Narcissa to predict the woman's train of thought.'_

Narcissa might be able to school her features almost flawlessly. But what she could never hide, no matter how much she tried, was the intelligence that shined in those blue orbs. Just like her older sister, Narcissa possessed a sharp mind. And because that, Hermione knew this 'random encounter' couldn't be as random as the woman led her to believe.

"How did you _really_ find me?" Hermione asked.

The girl let the silence filter in the atmosphere as she continued looking at the blonde, waiting patiently for a response.

"Originally, I've tasked the elves to keep a close eye on you."

Those words grated at something in Hermione, morphing her expression into a scowl.

"The elf you saved, never saw you. He just remembers falling on the ground and Greyback leaving the place. It was a garden elf who saw a brown werewolf passing near the greenhouse heading to the forest. When he reported to me, I assumed the elf saw the incorrect color. When the sun came out, I tasked Filqui to track Greyback, instead, she found you."

"You can imagine my surprise, Miss Granger, when I realize that the elf didn't see the wrong color, after all."

Of all the things Hermione did think of, this option never crossed her mind. She felt a little bit like a fool. The brunette could bring herself to be angry at the woman, all this happened because of Severus.

Needless to say, all her anger was focused on him.

"Why did Snape refuse to help you?"

"He didn't. He actually agreed to help me, to a certain extent. However, I needed a guarantee that he'll do good on his promise, so I asked him to do the unbreakable vow."

The brunette raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. The unbreakable vow was a very serious binding spell. Although she was confident that Severus would be careful about how the vow was being phrased, no matter how specific it gets, an unbreakable vow often has loopholes that can be exploited.

"So, what would it be, Miss Granger?" Narcissa shortened the space between, her face reflected how tired she was of a conversation that was being unnecessarily taking too long. "You'll still haven't given me an answer."

* * *

Without letting her words to sit too long in the air, the girl lowered her gaze in submission. "Whatever punishment you seem fit, my Lord, I'll accept it."

There was nothing else she could say or do, but to wait for Voldemort to decide what to do with her. Hermione dried her sweaty hands on her robes, her stomach felt heavy as lead. She wondered if the Cruciatus curse hurt as much a Harry once described it. She pictured the face of the man Bellatrix cursed time ago; he was a trembling mess when Lestrange was done with him.

If the man decided to physically punish her, she'll accept it. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she'll end up badly as the man Bellatrix tortured. Would it be even worse than Bellatrix's Crucio?

"Tell me, Hermione, do you regret killing him?" Voldemort asked, while he delicately petted Nagini with his knuckles.

"No, my Lord." She said almost reluctantly.

"Even if it cripples my plans?"

"People like Greyback are replaceable, my Lord." That was the most honest thing she had said today, Hermione thought. "I- I'll set myself the task someone else to fill his place."

"Do you believe yourself indispensable to my cause?"

Hermione raised her head in surprise. Ashen white features were seemingly placid, but she could tell his eyes held a danger within. The man was, at the very least, annoyed with her. It wouldn't do to act so sure of herself without knowing where he was heading at.

"No. I wouldn't dare. For I'm replaceable as well."

"Then tell me, what's the difference between you and Greyback? Or you believe yourself and equal to him?"

Voldemort was all about hierarchy and power, or that's what Nagini told her one day. He didn't like people being extremely humble, at the same time it was prudent to not be overly confident. Even Bellatrix seemed to be not as arrogant and obnoxious in his presence.

However, Greyback would never be equal to her, ever. She knew it, and he knew it.

"…When we faced each other, I managed to kill him wandlessly with a simple flick of my wrist. And there was nothing he could do but to die by my hand. There lies the difference my Lord, I'm still useful to you. If Greyback wasn't able to defend himself. It means it wasn't useful enough for you, my Lord."

A short-lived smile formed in his mouth, if Hermione blinked, she surely would have missed it. His fingers kept caressing Nagini's body, reveling in his master's warm and gentle touch. The snake kept preening at the sensation while her head pointed at Hermione's direction, her dark slits opening and closing with intent in those reptile eyes. For a moment, the girl thought Nagini was about to talk with her. But nothing came after, the snake just kept looking.

After a moment of silent consideration on his part, Voldemort took the girl's wand from the table. He ran a finger across the wand's body, examining its materials, shape, and color. "Wandless you say?"

The girl nodded.

He extended his arm and offered the wand to her. "Scabior was Greyback's second in command, find him. Dolohov knows where he is." Hermione grasped the wand but Voldemort held it thigh in hist fist. "_Do not_ disappoint me, Hermione."

The way he uttered the last words carried a heavy aura of menace with equal intimidation. Fail wasn't an option, Hermione understood this.

A wave of relief wash over her, she nodded once. "I won't, my Lord." She swore it.

"We'll gather tonight." The man told her as he made a weaving motion, finally dismissing Hermione.

* * *

Hermione didn't even consider her question, she outright refused.

The woman quickly recovered by blinking away the incredulous look on her face. "You don't seem to understand your position, Granger you either help me or…"

"Or what?!" Her voice was all demanding, she felt at the very edge of losing her temper again, self-control be dammed. "What are you going to do? Who are you going to tell? The Death Eaters? Your husband or perhaps your sister?! Or better yet! are you going to tell Voldemort?!" Narcissa almost physically flinched at the dark wizard's name being spoken out loud. "You are the one that doesn't seem to understand, Mrs. Malfoy! There is only one opinion that matters around here and that is our Lord's opinion. And guess what? _He knows_."

"…What?" Her eyes opened wide; confusion quickly settled on her face.

"He knows! He knew from the very beginning. Why do you think I'm here?" Hermione opened her arms, motioning her surroundings. "He recruited me for my abilities, being a werewolf was among the reasons he wanted me here." _'...And being imprinted to your maniac sister!' _

Hermione was fully aware that if there was a risk, it was Bellatrix knowing. But that Narcissa did not know that. Whatever power the woman thought she had over her; it didn't exist.

"And even if he didn't why would it matter? it is no secret that Greyback was a werewolf."

"I asked to keep it a secret for the sake of my privacy. This matter is of no one's concern but mine!" Hermione said, trying to ignore the thick tension growing in her jaw. "I-I was wondering why you couldn't wait; how desperate must you be to try to blackmail me when you just healed me a few minutes ago and—" The brunette huffed in frustration. "But now I get it. You thought I was mentally fragile enough to easily give in to your blackmail."

Narcissa, however, didn't seem to be listening to her anymore. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth moved silently, but aggressively. It almost looked like she was having an argument with herself. "I can't believe this." The blonde woman muttered, barely audible. "This is…This…Is just madness."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are not aware of anything, are you?" The blonde gave her a contemptuous look. When the brunette remained silent, the woman's expression morphed into something the girl hadn't seen in a long time. "What makes you so valuable that he is willing to oversee your _little flaws_?" The blonde's vocal cords vibrated with belittlement.

It was then when she saw Narcissa Malfoy. It felt like ages since the last time she set eyes on that woman. The one with the haughty expression; with the superiority flair which she carried herself by the virtue of her birth. The one that stood at King Cross station every beginning of the school year with an etched expression of disgust and supremacy in her face.

Would have been another person shooting a spiteful gaze just like Narcissa was doing it, Hermione would have matched it with equal measure. However, for the sake of familiarity, she made an effort to remain unfazed. Even more, as she continued watching the woman, she welcomed her. Like a sort of familiar face that someone sees every day in the corner when crossing the street but never talk to or the neighbor three houses next to hers and after many years they just acknowledge each other's presence with a nod.

"Funny, your sister asked the same thing." She replied dryly.

Narcissa's expression somehow became more pronounced "Allow me to shed some light on your _colossal_ ignorance." Her voice dripped scorn. "A year ago, no, months ago The Dark Lord would not dare to invite a girl, especially muggle-born, an impure one to mix among his ranks. And said girl is infected with the dirtiest and lowest cesspool of curses: Lycanthropy. Not only he does that but he invites her to sit next to him. One of the greatest honors he can give, bestowed to you almost since you arrived."

"I earned that seat!" Hermione retorted.

"The fact that you have to ask if it actually matters whether or not the Dark Lord knows about your curse, tells me how little do you know the Lord. Allow me to clarify that for you, it matters. It really matters. The main reason why Greyback couldn't aspire to a higher position was because of his curse."

"When you arrived, he personally told me to take care of your needs." A wry smile was drawn on her lips "I have to say Miss Granger; I was between shocked and livid. I thought he was punishing me for my husband's failures. As if hosting death eaters wasn't enough, now I had to tend personally the _newest addition_."

The woman shook her head lightly; her lips, slightly parted, as if for a moment she couldn't believe her own words. Unbeknown to Narcissa, Hermione started to share the same sentiment.

"Did you know Bella was training Draco? That was till he ordered her not to; the excuse was that she had better things to do than to waste her time. But lo and behold! Once Miss Granger arrived the Lord commanded his Lieutenant to personally train her."

Narcissa stared directly into Hermione's eyes. "If you don't think he is favoring you, Miss Granger, then I think I giving too much credit to your intelligence."

Hermione stood rooted in her place; Thinking how was it that she hadn't been aware of any of this. If she was looking for a single reason to think the Dark Wizard held her in higher regard than the others, Narcissa just threw her a whole list of items.

"I really didn't know." She spoke softly, still absorbing the information.

"I can see that, Miss Granger." Her tone was flat. The woman sighed tiredly, seeing her plan crumbling even before it started.

There was no doubt in the girl's mind that all this had everything to do with Bellatrix being her mate. _'But then why he would give me the potion in the first place?'_ It was an illogical thing to do if the man wanted her to bond with his Lieutenant. Besides all that, Voldemort wasn't known for his kindness, then why he paid more attention to her? _'Ugh, no wonder Lestrange asked if he was fucking me.'_ A wave of disgust originated in her stomach. _'…Gross'_

Hermione needed to think, really think about the implications behind his actions. But not now. Not when already everything felt like a clusterfuck. She could feel the first twinges of a headache approximating. _'A bloody clusterfuck indeed.' _

Her eyes drifted at the light outside, she turned her body and looked through the window. The shadows cast by the house had almost shrunk by half. _'By now, everyone must be about to wake up.'_ In no time the news will spread. She needed to reach Voldemort before that happened.

_'__What a day…'_ She was thankful for the distraction, though, in whatever form it came. It was better than to be alone with her thoughts, a habit that Hermione avoided most of the time in recent months.

After all this, Hermione felt forced to recognize one thing. Regardless of the venom which Narcissa's words were spoken, all of them were said with honesty. A rare occurrence when living among snakes. The blonde just showed her a glimpse of how callous and cunning she can be, but if the woman truly wished her ill, then this interaction would very different from what it was right now.

No matter if she had a reason hidden behind all the apparent interest for her wellbeing, Narcissa had helped her more often than not. _'I shouldn't discard her so easily.'_

Hermione prayed to whichever deity was willing to listen, and hoped she wasn't making a mistake involving herself with this family.

"Why me?"

"Excuse me?"

"What makes you think I can help your son?"

"Weren't you listening? Our Lord does favor you, Miss Granger. If Draco has your support—"

"That doesn't mean I have sway on his opinion."

"I don't think anyone does."

"Then what do you expect of me?"

"Your help."

"What is his task?"

"What guarantee you'd give me—"

"None. Other than my word." Her tone left no room for argument.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow in response. "How can I trust you'll keep your word?"

"The same way I'm trusting you right now."

Narcissa remained silent, her expression was thoughtful.

"Is your decision Mrs. Malfoy, either you tell me what it is or we are done here."

As the silence extended, Hermione turned her back on Narcissa again, letting the ultimatum hang in the air. If the woman didn't trust her, that was her prerogative, Hermione told herself. There was no other guarantee she was prepared to offer. _'I'll be utterly mad the day I dare to do an unbreakable vow with someone.'_ Particularly with someone she didn't even know.

"Whatever Draco has told you about me, believe him." That was as much as a convincing attempt she was inclined to do.

"I don't think that's a wise thing to say, Granger."

Hermione snorted. "Didn't he tell you how smart I'm? The smartest witch of this generation, or so Dumbledore told me once." She sounded nearly wistful. A sentiment that wouldn't be understood by the woman.

The seconds turned to minutes, and just when Hermione thought this wasn't going anywhere, Narcissa spoke again.

"Alright, Miss Granger. But if you don't keep your word, I'll make sure to skin you alive myself and use your filthy fur as carpet on the main entrance."

She didn't doubt any single word of that promise.

"Draco has to establish a path for the Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts. Lucius and I found an enchanted cabinet in…"

Hermione almost barked a hysterical laugh right at that second, it took all her will to remain in her place, unmoving. Suddenly, she felt like all the tension was drained, then filled her with maniac amusement on the verge to explode. She wished she could though, for the ridiculousness, the mere absurdity of all was just hardly bearable at this point. _'If only!'_ If only Narcissa had started this conversation with those simple words, things would have developed very differently. Her teeth flashed into a big smile; Hermione was glad that Narcissa couldn't see it.

Hogwarts, the most secure place after Gringotts. Voldemort tasked Draco to build a path, _her path_ to get to Hogwarts, a seemingly impenetrable fortress. The chance of a lifetime, to enter Hogwarts without nobody knowing. To break the headmaster when he will less expect it. Nobody and not a single soul inside that castle will see her come.

She was happy to know the dark wizard was keeping the promise he made to her.

"… The actual problem is that the one in Hogwarts is in a very decrepit state and we don't know if…."

Of course, she'll do anything in her power to help the boy to achieve that. Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel so furious at Severus or in general. Not much, at least.

The way Hermione was starting to see it, they could help each other. _'If she wants my help, how about a task for a task?'_ Narcissa had mentioned before her knowledge in healing was limited. But amateur or not the woman seemed to understand more than she let know. The brunette called it a hunch. How far, how deep that knowledge ran? The brunette couldn't tell. But that was something she'll eventually learn.

"…Under those conditions most probably the magical core of the wood had or is about to extinguish any…."

She eyed a book with a dark leather cover on top of her bedside table, the one she bought a month ago. Once her arm extended in direction to the furniture, the book flew immediately to her hand.

"Are you listening, Granger?!" The brisk tone made Hermione's smile wider.

Finally, with a self-regulated modest smile on her face, she turned to face the woman. "I think we can benefit from each other Mrs. Malfoy. I promise I'll do everything in my power to help Draco." Hermione said as she offered the book to Narcissa. "But I'll need your help with this…"

* * *

Hermione lingered nervously a few seconds looking at her wand before she gathered the courage to turn and speak to Voldemort. "My Lord, before I go. May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you want me to…" The words got stuck in her throat. She cleared her throat one time, then twice. "Do you expect me to mate with Bellatrix?" She croaked, almost wincing at the sound she just produced.

Voldemort halted the soft touches on Nagini. He turned to look at the brunette with interest.

"I guess, w-what I'm trying to say is, I—"

"Do you want to?"

"Merlin, no." She replied immediately. "And even if I wished to, which I really don't, she is married."

"Why would that matter?"

"The magical bond—"

"Is nothing compared to a Veela's or werewolf imprint." The man explained as if it was something she should've known already. His attention drifted somewhere else. "I wouldn't have given you the potion if that was my wish. I might have as well forced you onto Bellatrix from the beginning. I said I wanted you to join by your own volition. I have kept my word, have I not?"

"Yes, you have, My Lord."

If his words were true, then why…? Hermione didn't know how to ask without sounding ungrateful or suspicious of his intentions. She couldn't risk offending him, even more so after today.

"Be sure to keep yours, follow my orders. And you'll have nothing to worry about." His tone was kind and sympathetic like he was talking to a friend.

But Hermione wasn't stupid, she knew a threat when she heard one.

"Would that be all?"

"Y-Yes." Not feeling daring enough to test the limits of his accessibility, the brunette bowed. "Thank you for your time, My Lord." And after the proper reverence, she left the room.


End file.
